Broken Roots: Origin
by DrakeAEL
Summary: This fic is set in an alternate universe (AU) of the TMNT, where I address primarily this question: what would happen if Splinter wasn't there, from the start? It's kinda like a bildungsrowanshwashwa, where they start off as mutant nobodies and grow to be the TMNT we all love and admire. Please comment and review!:)
1. Chapter 1: Big Apple, 3 AM

Big Apple, 3 A.M. It's still quite dark, yet a shadowy figure walks hurriedly by, as the annoying sound of an alarm runs off in the background. It comes to a stop near an alleyway, them starts rubbing its hands together and breathing a white, foggy cloud onto them, trying to stave off the cold winter wind. Under the shady protection of a hood, two glowing, penetrating eyes make a sudden move towards a nearby noise: a cat had toppled over a garbage can. With a gasp of relief, the two glowing eyes dropped down to a big lump in its jacket, then raised to the space immediately ahead, and the shadowy figure started its way through the vast, intricate maze of alleys and dead-ends of the stone jungle.

Ten minutes later, the shadow turned over a corner and arrived at a certain spot filled with graffiti all over the walls, and it stopped there.

\- Did you bring the stuff? – a cold, raspy voice in the shadows greeted it.

The first shadow took a step forward, and joined the voice in the darkness.

\- Yeah – the voice that came from underneath the hood was that of a twelve-year-old, yet it was sarcastic, somewhat heavy, gritty even – What about you, Jack? – after speaking, it raised its hood, as if to make the point clearer, and in so doing revealed, indeed, the face of a teenager.

The only thing was that it was not the face of a human boy: it was the face of a mutant turtle.

The second voice came a little closer to the first, and if one would make some effort one could see that he too was an anthropomorphic, over-sized twelver turtle, wearing a sports sweatshirt with a hood and some battered pants. He patted over a similar lump on his sweatshirt, and made a grin.

\- Don'tcha know me better than askin', Artie? I'm good.

The turtle called Artie shrugged, and made a nod with his green-scaled head toward the corner.

\- Whatever. Let's go back to the old fart's and deliver the goods, before we freeze to death – we _are_ cold-blooded, ya know.

Back at the slums, the boys opened their jackets and put the contents over a worn, beer-stained table near a makeshift fireplace. The old man sitting on a stool was helping himself to some liquor, and watched closely as the light of the fireplace reflected on the stolen objects.

\- Well, well, well, what do we got here? – as he talked, he picked up a silver watch and examined it with his obviously drunken eyes – You boys have done well, for the morning; there's some leftover corn and biscuits for you in the cupboard; just try not to scarf down all of it, you toad-faced morons.

The boys, without a word, went to the cupboard, and grabbed the can and the package. While Jack was busy looking for the can-opener, Artie's eyes were lost in the empty depths of his metal plate, in contemplation.

For as long as he could tell, his life and that of his twin brother have been hell on Earth; since old Arnold Posowlsky, the homeless drunkard, found them in a filthy gutter, shriveling in the cold, to that very day, when they committed their first real robberies, going through the harsh words, the yellings, the beatings, without so much as a word of tenderness, as opposed to the tolerance of letting they live their lives quietly as long as they didn't disturb the old man. Life has been like that; Artie could not find in his heart to respect his "adoptive" father, always referring to him as "Arnold" or "old fart", and indeed no bond of love was required in their relationship – only that he still obeyed the elder, doing petty thievery and burglary in exchange of hearth, food and shelter. That was all. And, even at such a tender age, Artie had by now mostly resigned to the situation, simply striving to do the best for himself and his brother.

But things were not like that for the twin, Jack: his natural temper always got the better of him, and put him in dire straits more than once; he openly hated Arnold, and they had many fights, which always ended with both turtles beaten, bruised and scarred, and Artie trying to dry the hot tears that sprung from his brother's blackened eyes. It all frustrated him very much, living life like that, and the way he found to blow off some of the steam was by roughing up the kids he happened to come across during their street walks. He hated them, just as much as he did Arnold, and all of mankind as well, which he blamed for his miserable condition.

Artie was very distasteful of this violent aspect of his brother, but nonetheless he also had some reserves towards other human beings, and he never came to the aid of a single one of Jack's victims. And he had his reasons not to.

After their meager meal, they were summoned by the old man. He started:

\- So, you brats did bring here some neat stuff. Classy. – a noisy hiccup followed this last remark. – Really, really neat stuff. That's because, I've chosen a good spot for you. – with each word, his alcoholic gaze became more and more fierce, and the turtles instinctively trembled in expectation – Why, it's so neat, that you brats are gonna haul in some more tomorrow. Same spot, same goods.

Jack looked dumbfounded.

\- Hm, what? Like, goin' back to the places we just robbed today?

\- What, beside being a _freak_, you also deaf now? 'Cause I know just the thing to lousy ears, ya know…

_Freak._

\- No, is just like, we – I – just got outta there without being caught, and it would be smart to lay low for a while… and, you promised…

Jack was interrupted by a loud smack over his face.

\- Why, you ungrateful little punk… I don't feed ya so youse talk back to me!

\- But you promised…

Now it was a punch – the first of a sequence.

Artie tried to protect his brother the way he used to: he stood right in front of him, receiving the full blows on his face, trying not to protect himself hiding himself in his shell, for it would only delay the inevitable.

After a while, their wounds started to swell, and that seemed to appease the old man; Jack, with an almost inaudible mumble, finished his sentence: "…you promised we would only have to do that once."

\- Now, _freaks_ – tomorrow, same hour, same place. Got that?

They both nodded, gravely.

\- Good. Now, off you go – and don't you come back without some good stuff, or I will crack your shells like walnuts.

_Freak. Freak. Freak._

Artie tossed and rolled over his rags, sweat holing up in his brow.

The turtles were walking on the street, side by side. They saw a group of kids playing basketball; they seemed happy. They looked to one another, and exchanged a smile; then, they started to walk towards the group.

But then, just as they were getting closer, one of the kids turned and screamed:

\- Go away, you freaks! We don't wanna play with freaks like you!

And then, all the other kids started to say, "Freak! Freak! Freak!", and some of them picked up rocks and started throwing them.

One of the rocks hit Jack in the forehead, and he started to cry, a thin line of blood dripping over his face; Artie, furious, picked up the rock and threw it back at the boy that launched it, right in the middle of the chest. The boy moaned, and then ran off, while the other kids also fled in fear, leaving the two turtles alone in the alley.

Two utterly alone freaks.

_Freaks. Freaks. Freaks._


	2. Chapter 2: Day of Changes

The following day, they went back to the places they had previously stolen – a jewelry and an electronics store –, but both of them found, for their dismay, that the security had been heavily reinforced from the previous day – more security cameras, and all that. There was simply no way they could make the caper without being caught. Frustrated, they both went to their usual meeting spot – the one with the graffiti – to try and think what to do next.

\- It's impossible cracking that joint now, Artie – the old geezer installed cameras ta monitor the cameras, and I betcha a sneeze would set up alarms enough ta wake up half the city.

\- Yeah. I didn't have luck either. Security's too tight.

\- So, what now?

\- Dunno. What am I supposed ta say?

Jack kicked a dumpster in frustration.

\- Dammit!

Artie kept looking at him, as he stood there, brooding.

\- I suppose we could steal some other place – he started, trying to make a convincing face – I mean, Arnold wouldn't care…

\- Arnold, that bastard! – Jack kicked the dumpster again. – If it wasn't for him, we wouldn't have to do this stupid thing, for starters.

\- Jack…

\- Ow, what now, Art? Are ya gonna take his side on this one, too? 'Cause y'know, even if we pull it up this time, do you think that it's gonna be any different in the future, that he will change, be a nice guy? This is it; I'm sick of taking orders from that goon. It's over, bro.

Artie reflected on Jack's words. He knew them to be true; he knew they had hit rock bottom, and that they had to make an important decision now, but still, he had been afraid that that moment would come; he needed to buy some time:

\- Let's roll over downtown; perhaps we will think of something there.

Jack nodded, almost absently. All that display of frustration, yet he was feeling all weak and tired; but suddenly, he remembered his great admiration of his twin brother, and he was ready to follow Artie wherever he'd go, even back to the slums, if he must.

\- 'Kay.

They were walking side by side, silently, in a quiet part of town. Jack was the one to break the ice:

\- Y'know, I've been thinking: all this time, and we never got the chance to go to the movies; we've been wanting to, like, forever.

Artie kept silent.

\- What I'm trying ta say is, we should check it out, soon as we give the old fart the laugh…

\- We're not leaving Arnold, Jack. – Artie turned his face to his brother, and his face was cold serious.

\- Is that so, fearless leader?

\- Fearless leader?

\- You think it isn't good enough Arnold bossin' me around and kickin' my butt, I need also takin' orders from you? I go where I want to, and, if you won't bail on the old fart, then fine by me, but I'm gettin' the hell outta there.

Jack frowned at Artie, his lower lip shaking a little bit. He really didn't mean what he said, he was very attached to his brother, the only friend he ever had; he was troubled, and acting tough helped ease the fear he was feeling, of what would become of them.

\- Jackie, what are you talking about? – he looked at his brother with such a sad expression that Jack's frown lightened up a bit. – This is not the way things work; we're stuck together in this, through and through, like P. B. and J., to the bitter end.

Jack avoided looking him in the eye. – Yeah, to the bitter end. – then he looked Artie straight in the face: - And it sure is gonna be bitter, if we stick with the windbag.

Artie looked exasperated; he raised his arms, in a gesture of frustration: - But what else do you expect me to do? Get a job? Move to a nicer neighborhood? Face it, Jackie, there's nowhere else to turn to: everybody in the world except Arnold freaks out at us; we would starve, and freeze to death – if some scientist don't cut us open or an angry mob don't get to us first, out in the open.

\- But we wouldn't need to lie in the open.

Artie examined with curiosity his brother's expression.

\- What do you mean?

\- I know this abandoned storehouse, in a part of town where some gang of bozos called the Purple Dragons have their turf. It has been abandoned for months, and nobody goes there, not even the police, all chicken-scared of the Dragons.

\- So what's your point?

\- You don't get it? We give ol' Arnold the laugh an' crash that joint, bro – no one else has the balls to. We could get away from all of this, we could go wherever we wanted, do whatever we wanted, man!

\- And you think that's that easy? Just show up and claim the whole place to ourselves? And what would we do for food?

\- What we've always done: stealing. We can make it, Artie!

\- No, Jack, that is a dumb idea – we would only put our shells in more trouble than we already have.

\- Well, I don't see _you_ coming up with any brilliant ideas, fearless leader.

\- Sheesh… Stop calling me that! – Artie frowned, annoyed. He sighed. – Okay, hear me now, Jackie, this is what we're gonna do: we stick with Arnold for now, till I can get a small job – and I mean for real; you know, I kinda almost convinced the newsstand guy to let me do deliveries…

\- Yeah, fat lot better 'an stealing…

\- Just shut up and listen, okay? I get this job, and I get you one too. We're gonna raise enough money, hide it somewhere safe away from the slums, build a little place of our own, and then is goodbye to the old fart. – He put both hands on Jack's shoulders. – We're gonna survive this, bro. I promise you.

\- So, what's all this, then?

The old man stared at the small pile presented by the turtles over the table. He picked up a cheap wristwatch and looked at it under the vanishing light of the fire.

\- It's all we could lift, Arnold; you know, that places you wanted us to steal from, they put up a tight security, you should've seen, it was impossible, man!...

An alcoholic light flickered on the old man's eyes, which played around with a fly that was buzzing by.

\- So what? That's not my problem. I simply gave you freaks a task, and… - he started to stand up from the stool. - … you have failed that task. Now, you're gonna get your punishment for that failure.

This day, he was drunker than Artie ever saw him. He picked up a baseball bat lying at a corner, and walked over to Jack. The two turtles were paralyzed by the sight. Then, he made a fell swoop at his plastron, and started pummeling him down to the ground.

And he beat, beat, beat him, and he wasn't stopping to beat, beat, beat… Artie watched in impotent horror, as he saw the bloody pulp that was his brother screaming, lifting his arms, trying to desperately protect his face. Why wasn't he retreating? And still, he beat, and beat, and beat…

\- S-Stop it! Please, stop it!

\- Quiet, you freak! You're getting what's coming next to you.

It was this moment that something snapped within Artie's brain. He looked back at the table, saw the bottle of Scotch still lying there. He walked next to it, and picked it up.

It was a flash: in a mere split second, he stroke the bottle with all his strength on the old man's head. Arnold let out a dull groan and stumbled to the ground, lifeless. A thick line of blood was running through his scalp and drooling at his cheek.

Jack was quite beaten up, almost senseless, but he managed to raise his head, to look at the scene of his twin brother holding the broken bottle and staring at the body: - Is-Is he dead?

Artie gasped at the sound of the word; tears started to involuntarily fall from his eyes.

\- I-I don't know… I-I didn't mean t-to…

Then he looked over at his brother, the blood dripping to the floor from swollen ecchymosis that were starting to blacken already.

\- Let's get the heck outta here…


	3. Chapter 3: The Turtle and the Dragon

\- Jack, wake up. It's bright outside already.

Jack grumbled something, but still he raised his back obediently from his hammock. He rubbed his eyes, and gave a powerful yawn.

\- Good morning to you too, dear brother. I hope you've been at least more polite to 'em roosts, pigeons and other birds everywhere, since you happen to wake up when they do.

Artie's nostrils dilated. – At least, the early bird gets the worm. – and, throwing at him something wrapped in newspaper: - Here's yours.

Jack hastened to open it up: it was a large loaf of bread. It smelled freshly, and looked delicious.

\- So, whose bread this one came from?

Artie looked mildly offended. – I didn't have to steal; I have an honest work, you know. – Jack hadn't any eyebrows, but if he did his right one would be way up on his bald head. – Well, at least _most_ of it wasn't stolen.

\- Aham…

\- Ow, don't just "aham" me and get up already, lazy-shell… - he threw Jack's sweatshirt over to the half-raised turtle, an old, unfashionable souvenir of the Chicago Bulls; Artie's own jacket bore the stereotypical "I ❤ N. Y." over a black background.

\- Whatever you say, fearless… So, what's today's schedule?

Several months had already passed since the day they left the slums; things have been difficult for the turtles, but, after a long discussion, they agreed to camp at the storehouse Jack suggested, at least for the moment, while they put together their new lives and decide what they should do next. At the moment, they were busy following a series of routines that Artie worked out: he would walk around, with his face tightly wrapped around a scarf (it was cold anyway) to see if anyone needed a small-end job done. People found him strange, especially his feet, which were tucked in some large, oddly shaped sneakers, but he explained that he and his brother looked like that because of a genetic condition (which actually was the truth), and so he managed to get chores to do. They did everything they could manage to: delivering papers, boxes, food, painting walls, dusting bookshelves, oiling machines, washing windows, polishing shoes, sweeping floors; sometimes they substituted someone who got sick and had no other replacement available. They worked all day long, but still they could barely eat enough, and, especially in the beginning, they had to complement their slim income with some purse-snatching and the like.

Things had brightened up for the two brothers without the abusive drunk man, and indeed they were reasonably happy. Jack scratched his neck, another yawn coming up; the marks of Arnold's beatdown were still prominent – a grim reminder of the past – but he was healing from the ailment quickly; probably one or two weeks and the marks would be gone. He looked at Artie, waiting for the answer.

\- Today you're going to walk Miss Butterworth's dogs, wash Mr. Thompson's windows, and mown a few lawns in the suburb, and...

Jack interrupted his stretching of his arms to throw a disappointed glance at his brother.

\- Ow, c'mon, man, you ain't serious, are you? This is peanuts; bet we could get more joining the Boy Scouts or somethin', and we'd look less ridiculous, too.

\- Don't be picky; work is work, and we need to eat.

Jack started to walk around in circles, muttering to himself.

\- What are you ranting about, Jack?

Jack slid his hand over his green head, and sighed.

\- It's just that, I don't think we're going anywhere with this, man. I mean, we get to live, but we have to work all day long, weekends too, and we don't even know next day's meal's for sure. We don't even know next day's job. Long story short – we've got a big problem on our hands. I think we should talk about it.

Artie sighed. They've had this conversation before, many times over. He knew there was a problem, but he simply didn't know the answer to it.

\- And what are we supposed to talk about?

Jack calmly sat down back on his hammock, after he finished dressing himself up.

\- I think I can get us both a one-time job: the dough is good, and it ain't hard.

Artie puzzled for a second: - What wo- then he realized what his brother was talking about – Ow, dammit, Jack, you can't mean…

\- Just hear me out…

\- If you think I'll put up with the risk of any of us going to jail because of …

\- Just hear me out, dammit!

An awkward silence stood over the small room over a few moments. Many cardboard boxes lined the place, with rests of candles and cheap Chinese food boxes; a few comic books (most stolen) were scattered near Jack's place, while Artie's place had many paper cuts and a radio that didn't work. The entire room, which was a small stockroom upstairs the storehouse, was clinging with dust and pigeon droppings; a waft of cold air entered the place through a crack in one of the windows (which was quite large and had to be covered with a curtain of sorts), behind Jack's hammock.

\- … Very well. – Artie finally put himself together for this. – What is it about?

The air was tense. Jack seemed to have some difficulty moving, as if he were inside a barrel of molasses.

\- Remember those Purple Dragon guys I talked about?

Artie's chest inflated in annoyance. – How could I forget about those creeps? Ever since we moved to this rundown shack, most of my time I've wasted trying to come and go without getting in trouble with them.

Jack made a gesture of condescension. – Yeah, I get ya're pissed with them, but I think we can work out both problems at once: ya see, I've been spying them lately, and I hear those guys are hurting for new blood. Art, man, just- just think about it for a moment: suppose we get to work for the creeps; then, we won't have to worry being jumped at in their turf, and we will get real money so we will never have to worry about food again! – He raised his arms to emphasize his point. – Remember you said we were going to survive this. Well, that's our ticket, I'm telling ya. We should take it.

Artie looked seriously at his brother, a worried wrinkle crossing his forehead. He didn't like depending on stealing to live, and much less the other crimes he happened to witness while on the streets. He knew the Purple Dragons, he knew what they were capable of, and he didn't want his brother to be a part of any of it. – Jack, I know you're trying to sort out what would be best for both of us, but, I tell ya, it just isn't that simple. These guys, these guys mean trouble; you can't count on them to always cover your back … you can count on me. Won't you trust me on this one?

Jack sighed, and lowered his head. They were just some two meters apart, but the distance seemed to grow larger and larger as he raised his head again and stood up, walking in Artie's direction, towards the door.

When he was side by side with Artie, he spoke, without turning his head: - That's peachy. If you don't have the guts to take on this job, I do. Don't worry, Art: you won't have to dirt a single finger of your pretty hands on this one. – Then he continued walking, bumping his shoulder on purpose into Artie's shoulder on his way out.

Again, something snapped in Artie's brain, but this time he was better prepared for it: he made a quicksilver movement backwards, picked up a rotten wooden plank that was nearby, and burst it on Jack's back. – You damn idiot!

The strike had its effect: Jack stopped as he felt the impact on his back, and clenched his fists. It didn't hurt him, but his anger started to build up; he turned, and landed a punch squarely on Artie's face, who landed with his limbs outstretched on the ground, his nostrils bleeding.

Jack bent over him and raised him by the collar of his jacket, and then he threw his elbow backwards as he prepared to launch another punch, and another… After he finished, he whispered into Artie's ear: - That is like what it felt that day, when you took your sweet time to knock out the old bastard. – His face was dark and cruel as he spoke these words, but, as soon as he finished, it seemed to twist, as if in regret; but as soon as it happened it passed. He left his near-unconscious brother lying on the floor, opened the door, and closed it behind himself.


	4. Chapter 4: Help Comes from Above

That same day, Jack came home, sporting the insignia of the Dragons on his clothes. The brothers didn't talk to each other: Jack ate some cake they had, and then went to sleep without bidding his fast-asleep brother good night, as they always used to. The next day, without much of a word, each one went their separate ways, to their respective jobs.

Things were like this for a while, till one day Artie couldn't take it anymore; he _had_ to know what those punks were doing to his brother, and what he was doing for them, in return. So, after they took their separate ways, he made a U-turn and followed his twin brother without being noticed. Jack went to a garage near the back of a laundry store, where he tapped his knuckles with a certain rhythm on the steel grating, which was then opened by a thug with a large scar over his face and a purple-died mohawk.

\- Tsk, tsk, tsk. That's a naughty thing, spying on others like that.

The voice on Artie's back startled him. He turned as quickly as he dared, and saw before him a young girl, about his age; she sported an insignia in her clothes that looked much like that of Jack's, and had strands of purple on her hair. She seemed interested in the physique of the spy.

\- Sooo… I take it you are the turtle's brother, aren't you?

Artie's blood froze still on his veins. How had he been discovered? After all those precautions, the low profile, how had their secret been discovered? And that girl, who was she? How much did she know about him and his brother, and, most importantly, what would she want to keep it to herself?

\- T-Turtle? What you talking about a turtle? Look, I wasn't spying, I was just looking that guy that went to the back of the laundry store, I thought he was someone I knew...

\- Hm… Lemme think… Arthur, isn't it? I presume you, too, are a turtle, like Jake, ain'tcha? You must be, this big lump on your back can only be a shell. – She knocked Artie's shell and evaluated the sound. – Yup, definitely a turtle's shell.

Artie's world was upside-down. She knew everything. They were on her hands. It was pointless trying to deny it now.

\- Shh, not so loud. Who are you, and what do you want with me and my brother?

The girl gave him a wide smile, and said: - Ha! I knew you was bound to show up sooner or later, Artie – can I call you Artie? – Well, you made two questions. Answer number one: my name is none of your business, but you can call me Angel. Answer number two: this is not a cool place to have a nice little chit-chat. Let's go to your place at the old storehouse, shall we?

Artie nodded in agreement. What else could he do? It seemed that Angel had got him and his brother completely figured out. He had to play along, and forget his mission about Jack – at least for the time being.

\- Man, this place is a dump. It's like animals live in here.

\- I resent that remark. - Artie locked the door behind him the most carefully he could, then removed his hood and scarf. The girl didn't seem impressed. – So, here we are. Now, Angel, would you care to explain to me how did you get to know so much about me and my brother, and why?

She started to walk around, examining the cardboard boxes and general trash littering the floor, then finally settled down on Jack's hammock.

\- Why, your brother told me all about you guys.

\- He… he did what?!

\- You turtles are naïve enough to seriously think that the Dragons, even desperate for getting new guys as they are, would be stupid enough to hire someone they can't see the face, aren't you? I was there when he was initiated – in fact, we both initiated at the same day – but, a little before the ceremony, the guys tore off his disguise when he didn't want to take it off himself, and everybody nearby, haha, you should have seen their faces! Obviously they've never seen a four-foot tall turtle walking on two legs; so, they sent him right to the big cheese in chains, closed the doors, and there he told the boss his story. The brass thought it was very interesting, and decided to let him take the test; he even made an announcement saying that the turtle was to be treated as any other Purple Dragon after Jack barely broke a sweat to complete his test.

\- What kind of "test" is it?

\- It's a Dragons secret, so if I tell you I will have to kill you. – Artie gulped intently. – Na, just kidding. You choose one of a number of tests they show you: things like winning a match on the arena, stealing something from someone they tell you to, painting a purple dragon on a high spot in the wall of a building, stuff like that. It's no big deal, really. I chose stealing some freaky statue from an antique store. Piece 'a cake.

\- And what did Jack choose as his test?

Angel gave him a wry smile. – He chose the arena.

Artie felt this like a bucket of cold water, but somewhat more sinister was that it was not wholly unexpected.

_Jack…_

\- Artie?

\- Hm? Oh, yeah?

\- You were daydreaming.

\- Did I? Sorry, it's no big deal. Please, go on.

\- He won his match. Fin.

\- You didn't tell me how _you_ came to know about me and my brother.

\- Oh yeah, that. Well, I suppose that's the main reason why I've came down to this pile of garbage you call home. You see, I had talked to him before they discovered he was a turtle and we kinda got along; after the ceremony, we did our startup missions together, and we became friends. He is a loner among the Dragons, 'cause many of 'em see him as just a freak, but he thought he could trust me and told me what he told the brass. That's how and why I know about you two.

They remained in silence for a while. After a few moments, Angel broke the spell:

\- Well, that's the whole thing. Kinda peachy, don'tcha think?

Artie smiled, but he didn't think this whole situation peachy at all.

\- Well, don't just stare at me with that mug of yours. Tell me: you into being my friend too, like ol' Jake? You heard me, I'm not so bad as I look. I'll even keep your little secret, free of charge. And, also, I don't think you guys are freaks; in fact, you're kinda cute.

And, after saying that, she reached for Artie's cheek, squeezing it while making sounds. Artie slapped gently her hand off with the back of his own. – Hey, cut it out!

\- Okay, hehe, just don't get angry and mutate into some hideous, flesh-eating monster. – She stopped laughing for a moment, considering the possibility. – You don't do that, do you?

\- No, I don't.

\- Oh, goodie. Well, I'll be leaving now. Ciao.

She started to make her way to the door. She was halfway there, when Artie remembered something.

\- Wait! Before leaving, would you mind telling me what Jack's job in the Dragons is ?

She turned her head slowly, and shrugged.

\- He is simply muscle. This is his strong point, has focused on it since the beginning…

\- Beginning?

She looked a bit intrigued. – You know, when the guys spot you, call you over, and have you prove yourself worthy to give a shot at the initiation test. Happened weeks ago. Didn't Jack tell you anything about it?

Artie was very still. – No… he didn't tell me.

\- Oh. I see. Well, ciao-ciao.

Intermezzo

Artie had his head full, after Angel's visit. It was just too much to absorb at once. Other people were aware of their identities, including the boss of a gang of dangerous thugs. He didn't know if he could really trust on that Angel character, and if she'd really keep their secret or use it to blackmail them. But the worst, the worst was that Jack had been lying to him, hiding things from him, something that started way before that fight they had on the day of Jack's initiation into the Purple Dragons. How much did his interest in those bozos go back? Perhaps at the time he mentioned the storehouse, the day they left the slums? Perhaps even before? And yet, that more terrible question, that he tried to avoid, but that lurked on the back of his mind – how could he, Artie, be so blind to the problems of the only family he had?

That day, he couldn't bear himself to do his errands. He kept waiting at the lair, reading his paper clips, trying to make the radio work, and, after all that didn't work, he decided to follow Angel's hint and try to tidy up the place.

It was almost midnight, when he heard the steps of someone approaching the door. He started up, thinking on putting his twin brother on the wall and asking about this Purple Dragon monkey-business, to torn the truth from his mouth even if that meant a fight; but then he thought better: it could do more damage than good. Better follow on his tracks and check out, for himself, what his rogue brother was up to. And, according to the situation, he'd have the element of surprise on his favor, in case a confrontation was in order.

The door opened. By then, Artie was back on his spot, pretending he was fast asleep, but observing intently his brother's movements, trying to detect any sign of suspicion in them. As he was looking with one of his eyes very slightly opened, he saw Jack approach; he knelt down close to him, and put a hand, lightly, on his shoulder, while staring at his face. He looked sad, but it didn't look that he knew anything about his conversation with Angel. Then he sighed and stood up, and went to his hammock.

Even mad at him, Artie couldn't help but wonder, if that strange act of his brother was actually some kind of habit.


	5. Chapter 5: Enter the Third

The following morning, Artie woke up and tried to act normally so as to not make Jack suspicious of his plan. He followed him again to the back of the laundry store, but this time being more aware of his surroundings – last time it was dumb luck that it was Angel and not another Purple Dragon who ratted him out, and he couldn't depend on luck for his mission. After Jack entered the garage, he didn't know what to expect, so he figured he'd just keep waiting and see if he came out the same way.

He waited about half an hour, when he finally saw Jack come out of the garage, with a handful of thugs, which took turns on getting out of the meeting place so as to not draw attention. Artie followed closely his brother, and together they went downtown.

It was almost 8 P.M., and Jack had been followed through and through by his twin brother during his rampage with the Dragons. Until that moment, all Artie had seen was Jack helping the thugs to rough up people so they would pay "protection money", fighting with his bare fists thugs from rival gangs, jumping and mugging, vandalizing, graffiting, that kind of thing; nothing to make him particularly proud of, but he couldn't help feeling a little bit of pride at one particular episode: the thugs were trying to pick some "protection money" from a fishmonger in the market street; when he refused to pay, some thugs took out their knives and things threatened to get ugly fast.

But then Jack took the fishmonger's side: - Guys, guys, no need of all the hardware; what he's gonna do, throw a mackerel on your faces?

One thug said: - No fooling around, Jake; we've come for our money, we're leaving with our money.

\- And who said that it would be any different? Here, gimme that toy of yers for a sec and I show you girls how it's done.

He took the knife of the thug who had spoken and he also took a carp from the stand; he raised the carp so the fishmonger could see what he was doing.

\- This carp – he started speaking –, this carp did not pay us the money it owed us; and this knife – well, it's just a knife. In any case, what I'm trying to say is this: - he turned the fish to the man and slowly opened the carp's belly before him, surgically. – Get the picture?

The man's eyes were wide open, as he nodded the way he thought would be more like a "yes". He reached inside his store for the register and came back in a hurry. – H-Here is y-your money.

\- Much obliged, my good friend. And here is your fishy.

Jack then turned to leave, but he found that the other thugs were frowning at him. – What? – He lifted an arm and smelled his armpit. – Am I smelly? I think it's the fishy.

\- We're not done here, you know.

\- Aw, c'mon, you guys can't be serious! I got the bloody money, didn't I? What else do you want?

\- It's a matter of principle: this creep didn't want to pay us in the first place, we have to teach him 'bout respect. – The thug drew his knife to the light. - He needs to be made an example of.

Jack kept quiet for a few seconds. Then he said: - Okay, lemme take care of that also. – He turned again to the fishmonger: - Okay, chief, I'll letcha in a little secret. The fishy – and he pointed to the carp with the belly opened – isn't the worst we can do to people that don't pay us. We can do way worse. For example, we can do THIS!

And, as he spoke the last word, he tore off his hood and scarf, showing his reptilian face to the man, who held his face as if afraid it would fall down, screamed in terror, and raced inside his shop, locking himself up there.

\- AND TELL EVERYBODY YOU KNOW WHAT YOU JUST SAW! – Jack shouted in an ominous voice. The thugs couldn't help but laugh at this. Jack threw the knife to its owner.

\- Ha, ha, did you hear him screaming like a little girl?

\- I think he's never going to eat turtle soup again.

Artie saw all this undercover, and he smiled when he understood that Jack had actually saved that man's life, with all that tough-acting that he recognized from their childhood–all talk, no walk; the Jack he knew would never consider doing… then the smile vanished from his face: the Jack he knew.

Artie remembered his mission, and focused on not losing Jack from sight; that was going to be tricky, because that night was particularly dark.

After a while, the small band stopped; they were receiving a transmission on their next errand. They hurried up to the docks, with Artie following on their tracks.

After they arrived on the docks, they seemed to look for a pier in particular – it was very dark there, so Artie couldn't see which one it was – , and when they found it they split up. Artie followed Jack into a sea of giant metallic containers, and this time he followed his brother closer than he had dared till then.

The sky looked bad. Really bad. A storm was brewing over the ocean. The wind got damper, and Artie huddled his clothes closer to himself. Lightning bolts were starting to crisscross the sky, in a very impressive manner. And shortly after, a heavy rain started falling all around them.

Thinking about those things, Artie cursed his luck and his brother's in having to go out with weather like that. Just then, he noticed a sudden movement by the containers at the right – his brother seemingly noticed it too, and started to move cautiously in that direction, though, compared to Artie, stealth wasn't exactly his strong point. Artie followed, very wary of the situation.

This was bad. Whatever they were hunting, he had a weird feeling in his gut telling him that was something very important, and following it seemed to suddenly take priority over following his brother unnoticed. He took a turn opposite that which Jack took around a container, trying to intercept the thing on the path he thought it would be by now; it could not avoid meeting with him or Jack.

He went around the container, and, when he was almost at the end of it, he slowed down, trying to hear anything ahead; he couldn't hear Jack's breathing, but he knew he was just at the other side of that giant metallic thing. He proceeded with the greatest of care. He took a quick peek around the corner.

He saw a shadow run towards an opening between the crates ahead; it seemed it was going towards the sea. Artie felt there was no time to lose, and made his move quickly. He ran, quiet as a mouse, to another opening ahead of him, hoping it would serve as a shortcut and also to cut short the shadow's escape route. He stopped again, but for less time, and then jumped out around the corner, betting everything on this final race.

When he processed what was around the corner, he saw the shadow just a few steps ahead of him, and he rushed it, at the same time another shadow, which he recognized as Jack, jumped it from the other side: they had trapped it.

Artie grabbed an arm of the shadow, and it started to try and break free; he heard Jack approach and yell: - Who's there? – Then he caught a glimpse of Artie's face when a faraway bolt reflected on the metallic surface of a nearby container. – Artie?! What are you doing here?

But Artie wasn't able to answer, because the next second a blast of lightning roared right above their heads, illuminating for a split second the whole scene. Both of them turned, at the same time, their sights to the face of the shadow they had been hunting and then shouted at the top of their lungs:

\- A TURTLE?!


	6. Chapter 6: Turvak, the Learned One

The mutant they grabbed was using strange black overalls, and was wearing some weird digital devices on his right wrist and eye; he was, apparently, about the same age as the other two turtles, but he spoke in some kind of alien tongue, and that, plus the unusual gear, seemed to be more suggestive of alien than of mutant. But one thing was clear enough: he wished to be set free by his captors, and was also startled to see that they too were turtles.

Then, suddenly, he relaxed and turned his face upside, with the looks of someone who would facepalm himself, if he had a free hand available.

\- But of course they can't speak Utronian, they are New Yorkers – He started to talk in English, and turned to his captors – Hey, guys. Lovely weather you're having tonight. Can you understand me, by the way?

Artie and Jack nodded, completely dumbfound.

\- Can you _speak_ to me?

Artie outgrew a little courage and said: - Y-Yeah, we can speak to you.

\- Oh, perfect. Now that we all understand each other, could you please let go of my arms? They're kinda hurting…

They released the black turtle's arms. Jack said: – Whatever you say, mister.

When he saw himself free, the black turtle adjusted his posture and said: - Allow me to introduce myself: my name is Turvak; and it is a very fortunate development indeed that I happened to find you here, since I was precisely looking for…

But his speech was cut short by a nearby shout that the Earth turtles recognized as of one of the thugs searching the pier. Jack immediately recovered his cold-blood (no pun intended) and shouted against the noise of the wind to Artie: - Okay, I don't have a clue what is going on or what you're doing here, Art, but I have an idea to get us outta this: you and our alien friend here hide on that crevice while I distract the guys and take them away from here; after we're far enough, you take him straight to the lair, and I'll meet you there as soon as I can; got it?

Artie made a vigorous nod, and took Turvak's hand.

\- Beg your pardon, but I don't think…

\- Hurry, you two! They're coming closer!

Artie rushed Turvak inside the small opening and then pressed himself there just as he saw some figures approaching with the corner of his eye.

Jack started screaming and waving his arms: - Guys! Guys! Over here!

After that, about half a dozen thugs came rushing to Jack's shout.

\- I saw it running to the cranes, by this side! Let's try cutting its escape over there!

After that, Jack and the thugs rushed around the corner he and Artie had just turned. Artie waited for a little while; then, when the sound of voices faded in the noise of the wind, he took Turvak's hand and ran to the entrance of the docks.

\- Where are you taking me? – the black turtle asked.

\- To my lair. Don't worry; it's not very impressive, but you'll be safe there with us.

\- I sure hope so.

They managed to make it to the entrance without being noticed by anyone. Artie gasped in relief, and took a little peek of the street around the corner.

\- We need to get to the alleyways without being seen. – he stated, then looked at the shiny gadgets on Turvak's wrist and eye. – Can't you take those off, or at least make them look a little more discrete?

\- I'll have you know that in Utrom, these accessories are considered very discrete.

\- Knowing that isn't helping us here on planet Earth.

\- Oh, alright, I suppose I can always put them on flight mode…

Artie couldn't be more relieved when he closed and locked the door of the turtle's lair behind him, and threw himself over his spot. – I can't believe we actually made it!

\- Oh, I can: turtles can be very stealthy when they need be.

Artie turned his face to Turvak; for a moment, he had almost forgot that he brought home a turtle from outer space, and only now the weirdness of the thing was catching up with him. – What about _you_? Are you really a turtle, like me?

\- Yep, you got that right.

Artie stood up. – And, you've also come from, what you call it, Utrom?

\- Correctumundo.

\- Now, wait, wait a minute: if you're a turtle like me, and you are an alien from another planet, then that can only mean…

For his stark surprise, Turvak started to laugh.

\- I'm afraid, my friend, that A plus B isn't equal to C. I'll be happy to explain it for you, as soon as our other friend shows up.

\- Jacob. His name is Jacob. And mine is Arthur, but you can call him Jack and me Art. And, what was your name again?

\- Turvak. T-U-R-V-A-K. It means "Learned One" in Utronian. I reckon it might sound a bit alien for you.

\- You reckoned it right. Can I call you, um, like, Turk or something?

\- Oh. Well, if it is easier for you to remember it that way, I guess it's okay.

\- Why? You don't like it?

\- Kind of; it's my despised kindergarten nickname.

After a wait that seemed eternal, Jack finally crossed the door and joined the other turtles. He was soaked and panting heavily.

\- Okay, now, can anybody tell me what the hell is going on? I was on a mission looking for some weird creature one of our lookouts spotted at the docks, which appeared out of thin air in the middle of a big flash of light, and, when I grab it with the help of a buddy, I see that my "bub" is my twin brother and the "creature" is a turtle just like me! So what gives, both of you?

\- Ah, so you're twins? I did notice that you looked much alike.

Jack was on the brink of having a tantrum. – Aham, anyway, I think I owe you guys some explanations that have been much delayed, so I better start clarifying the subject now. My name is Turvak, or, as Art here has put it, Turk; I've come to this planet from planet Utrom about 2.3 terrestrial hours ago, in a quest to find other ones like myself, though I didn't expect to find them.

He stopped, and stared at the ground. The other turtles urged him to go on. He sighed. – It's difficult for me to decide where to start; it's a very, very big story, to explain why we, mutant turtles, exist in the first place. I guess I should start from the beginning of the Earth.

Jack raised one pseudo-eyebrow, while Artie held up his hands in an apologetical gesture. – Erhm, you don't need to go through all the technical details – just skip to the part that directly involves us.

\- Oh, that's exactly what I intend to; but to explain who we are, I need first to explain who the Utrom are. Ca-ham. The Utrom are a highly intelligent race of pacifist beings, and their empire is about as old as this galaxy. Physically, they resemble – oh, man, how can I respectfully describe them – they resemble slightly overgrown brains with eyes, mouth and tentacles. There, I said it. Well, long ago, after the Earth cooled enough and its atmosphere changed chemically and organized, complex life started to develop, the Utrom, who had been accompanying the whole process from their faraway planet, also called Utrom, sent a scout ship to probe for signs of intelligent life here. On planet Earth. After the scout ship descended and scoured the planet's surface, it didn't find any sign of it, though; so the captain of the ship sent a request to his leader that he and his crew may be allowed to build an Utronian colony here on Earth, and keep it, so that they might be able to accelerate the development of intelligent life and start diplomatic relationships with it.

\- Sorry to interrupt, but I got a question. – Jake raised one of the three fingers of his right hand. – Why were those Utroms so keen to Earth having or not intelligent life on it? What was in it for them?

\- The Utrom, as I told you, are a pacifist race; they believe that sentiency is the most perfect concept in the Universe, and that bringing it to someone is something like curing blindness or deafness. The request of the captain of the scout ship was actually one that'd be very natural for them, and they even have a poetic term for that acceleration of sentiency development, which roughly translates as "seeding". But there is another, more practical reason why the Utrom choose to interfere like that: by monitoring the development of alien races, they can point out which races are more warlike or aggressive and try to change them in subtle ways; if that fails, then the whole planet may be isolated if it is potentially dangerous or, in extreme cases, even be totally eradicated.

Jack slid his hand over his head. – I dunno, when you talk like that, it sounds kinda wrong, you know, interfering with the natural course of things, and all that stuff…

\- True: the degree to which the Utrom should consider ethical which methods of the "seeding" process and the process itself is still an open topic of debate among Utrom thinkers.

\- Uh, guys, sorry to interrupt the philosophical discussion, but just what all of this has to do with me, my brother and you, Turk?

\- Oh yeah, of course, of course. Well, where was I? Oh, the Utrom colony. Ahumm-m. Well, the captain got his request, and he built the colony. The colony expanded with the years, grew in resources and manpower (should I say brainpower?), but it had also to be kept hidden from the developing races, as to not interfere too much with their development. So, they built vast underground complexes, and from there, they watched, with patience and a very subtle but still helping hand, the aging of the planet. You could say that it is the most important secret in the History of Earth; so secret, in fact, that even today, no human being suspects the influence that the Utrom have in their governments, right below their noses, in the very seat of power of the entire world.

The turtles looked oblivious at Turk.

\- The United Nations. You know. Big building, lots of flags. It's right here. In the city that you live on?

Artie and Jack simply shrugged, and Jack commented: – This city is big, man.

\- Oh, boy. – Turk held his head with his left hand. – Anyway, this brings me to the present, or, to be more precise, some thirteen years past from now. – The turtles reclined themselves in Turk's direction, and started to breath heavily in anxiety. – The Utrom still live on this planet, as I told you, and, as you might have expected, they have grow "accustomed" to mankind, and so they also developed some means to interact with it – they made these robotic suits which have the shape of an average-sized man, but where should have been the stomach and the guts there is actually an Utrom controlling the suit. – The turtles put their tongues out in disgust. – Well, it's not so gross when you have actually seen one. Anyway, usually they use those when they have to do some manual labor on the surface; in particular, there was this truck full of biohazard waste (or "ooze", it's just so gross) from an Utrom lab where they were doing experiments on human tissue – nothing macabre, I can assure you –; they were transporting the waste to a human treatment plant. At the time, however, it wasn't known that the waste was a mutagen, i.e. had mutagenic properties – it is able to make mutants. If it is spilled on, say, an ordinary turtle…

-… it could cause it to mutate to a hybrid of turtle and man. – Artie finished the sentence.

\- Precisely.

Jack extended his hand to Turk and touched his shoulder. His hand was sweating, and he was shaking. – Please, Turk, if you know, tell us – tell us how did that ooze thing spill on us.

Once again, Turk lowered his head and sighed. – That is another tricky part of the story. You see, that truck full of mutagen crashed and spilled canisters of ooze on the streets of New York, and the Utrom weren't able to find all of them, but they did manage to track down one that rolled down the street and ended up hitting a small pet shop and splattering all over the place. The Utrom closed and isolated the place, through their political influence, and started cleaning it up, when they discovered the mutagenic properties of the ooze. The animals that were splashed with it… began to change. So, they picked up those animals, and transferred them to their colony, where they were tolerated and educated by the kind Utrom, into healthful, wise, benevolent mutated beings. But the Utrom also made an inventory of everything that was in that pet shop. – When he spoke that last sentence, Turk's behavior started to change; his eyes were fixated in a point in empty space, behind the other turtles, and his hand started to shake when he reached to the inner folds of his black garments and produced a handful of paper notes; he lowered his eyes to them. – There were, among other things in the ruins of the shop, a fish bowl with a little sand, a palm tree and a small turtle covered with a green, glowing substance – the ooze. But also, in that bowl there was a price tag with a barcode. The Utrom cross-checked the barcode in the shop's files, and – his eyes started to redden and wet –, and, they found a description of the bowl and its contents on the inventory. Before the shop was hit with the canister, there were four male turtles from the same batch of eggs in that bowl – two of which were twins.

Turk raised his eyes from the notes, and tears were flowing from them. – Need I say more, brothers?

Both Artie and Jack stood breathless; that revelation was totally unexpected, and it shook them to their very roots. For several moments, no one could utter a single intelligible word; Jack, them, was the one to break the silence, tears falling from his eyes as he spoke: - I-I have another brother?

Then both Artie and Jack rushed to Turk, their tears mixing with his, and they held tightly, for several minutes, his long-lost brother, as if in fear that he might leave them again.

Mesologue

After the reunion of the three turtle brothers, much would change in their lives. Some answers had been given that fateful night; yet, the first one to realize that other questions needed answers was Artie, as he opened his eyes, his heart mute with the dire thought he had. – Wait, Turk – you said there were four turtles in that bowl; what happened to the fourth?

The other turtles slowly separated themselves and looked gravely at Artie; then Turk spoke: - Yes... him. When I saw you two on the pier, I thought, I-I hoped that you might be able to tell me that. But I'm not without clues: the catalog said that one of the turtles was an albino, meaning skin is white and eyes jet-blood. If he is… fine, we should be able to easily identify him, if we come across him. But I, for one, wasn't very hopeful to find any of you when I landed back on Earth, so just seeing now you two here alive is, like, a miracle.

They were still sniffing. Jack asked him: - Tell us about you, Turk. What happened to you, and how you ended up coming back to Earth.

Turk dried the last remnants of tears on his strange black garments. – As you might have guessed, I was that solitaire turtle that remained in the bowl. The catalog mentions the patterns on my shell as being distinctive; the Utrom noticed that when they picked me up and brought me to their subterranean lab. There, my mutation process was completed. They were very kind to me: they fed me, nursed me, took care of my needs; not long after that, the rest of the animals of the pet shop – which they named Mutanimals – and me were transported to Utrom itself, where we would be more properly lodged, educated and integrated into Utrom society; after our education was complete, we'd be allowed to leave the planet, if we so desired, to live somewhere else in the cosmos. They taught me everything I know: how to walk, to write, to speak in both Utronian and English; they taught me many things, but the story of the fish bowl they kept hidden, until I was considered to be mature enough. It happened on my thirteenth birthday, when they gave me these notes. It was then that I made my plan to come back to Earth and look for you; the way I did that was by sneaking in the room where they store a device called Telemat, which has the ability to teleport anything to basically anywhere in the known universe; I simply set the coordinates to Earth, and puf! here I am. – He pointed his eye and wrist gadgets. – These devices are linked to the Telemat, feeding it my biosignature even as we speak; if I turn it off, I will lose connection to the Telemat and won't be able to teleport us back to Utrom.

\- Us?

\- Yes. I thought that if, in a stroke of luck, I happened to find all of you, I would bring you back to Utrom, where we could be a family again. Thinking about it now, it seems foolish; but it was just the way that things happened: in my mind, I knew it was crazy, I knew you'd probably be dead by now and if not my odds of finding you were minimal; but, even so, I set up the coordinates and came down here.

A heavy silence descended on the small room. After a while, it was Turk's time to break the spell: - Well, enough about me. Tell me about you guys, what happened to you, where have you been all these years?

Artie and Jack looked at each other. Artie sighed. – It's a long story; before we go through it, I think we should have a bite. You... like spaghetti?

\- I don't know; I guess I could always try some.

They ate the pasta sitting around in a circle, and while eating Artie and Jack told their story, from the time they were found in the gutter to their encounter with Turk. When they finished it, Turk looked shocked at them. – Guys, I had no idea you have passed through all that. I-I'm so sorry…

Artie looked at him in the eye. – Don't be; it's not your fault it all happened like that. – And, speaking more to himself than to the others: - Boy, I never really thought that my past would've been anything like this; I thought I was just some freak of nature, some lab reject, I dunno. It's just so weird.

Jack nodded in support: - Yeah, totally. And how did we get separated, in the first place? Like, weren't we inside a bowl?

\- Now that you ask, the notes don't mention it, but I believe it was intact; if that is the case, and you took about the same time as me to mutate, that can only mean that someone, or something, took the three of you from it.

Artie frowned. – So, another mystery on our hands. – Jack added, in a serious tone: - But more important now is to find our missing brother, and if he's a someone's prisoner, then we'll make whoever they are pay. – He clenched his fist as he spoke, and punched his palm.


	7. Chapter 7: Sightseeing

The next day, the turtles woke up, had cereal, and made a reunion to decide what they should do next.

\- Guys, what are we going to do now? If it was only a matter of scavenging food and having a place to stay, we'd be okay bringing you in, Turk; but knowing about a missing brother changes everything.

\- Yeah, he should be our priority now. There's no question about it: we search for him.

\- I agree, but how are we going to look for a giant albino turtle in New York City? The city is huge, and we don't have a clue where to start looking for.

\- I think we should start examining the pet shop and see if we can retrace our brother's steps from there.

Artie turned to Turk. – Do you know the address of that place, Turk?

\- Of course I know; I thought I'd best start looking there, as soon as I got here.

Artie had a little start. – Which reminds me; you said that those gadgets of yours were connected to the Telemat. – Turk nodded. – Can't the Utrom use them to track us down, and, I don't know, drag you back to their planet or something?

Turk looked down at his wrist device. – About that, guys… I forgot to tell you something. This thing is also a communicator; I used it to relay a message to the Utrom yesterday before sleeping: I told them I was fine, explained why I used the Telemat without permission, and told them I found you two guys. They seemed a little ticked off, but they were glad I was OK and you guys too, and agreed on me staying here till we find our missing brother; they told me to keep the tracker on and that they were going to help us with intel and personnel from NYC. I told them about my thoughts on the pet shop, and they told me they'd send someone to meet me there this evening.

Jack beamed: - Great; now we got a lead to go on! Where's the pet shop, and when we gotta meet the Utrom guy?

\- I will write it down for you; do you have paper and a pen?

Artie handed him over a news clip and a piece of pencil. He then looked seriously to Jack: - Okay, sounds like a plan, but we still got one problem: the Dragons.

\- What about 'em?

\- Jack, have you ever considered how are you going to help look for our brother if you have to go on patrol with the Dragons?

\- No problemo, amigo; I can ask for lookout duty near the shop place.

\- Won't they think it weird of you asking that for no reason, out of the blue?

\- Tchh, hell no. – He seemed to reconsider. – Well, maybe there's a teensy-weensy chance…

\- We're taking no chances – Artie looked sternly at his brother. – Those guys know too much already about us: they know who we are, what we do, where we live… They don't know about Turk yet, but they might end up finding about him, if we start acting suspicious.

\- What's your point, fearless leader?

\- My point is, this place isn't safe any longer; we can't keep you here, Turk. – The black turtle looked a little down-crested; Artie tried to rephrase himself: – It's not like we don't want you around, or anything; is just that it isn't safe for you to stay here. We need to find a spot for you to stay, and fast, before we make our move; also, we need to find you some clothes that don't draw so much attention, and we need to figure a way to communicate with one another. Artie looked back at Jack: - That okay with you? – Jack just nodded and grunted.

Turk walked in the direction of Artie's radio, and tapped it gently. – I don't know how we are going to find a place for me to stay on, but, about the communication problem, I think I can do something about it if you bring me to your local junkyard.

Jack walked over next to them. – Good! Now that all is settled, we can start making turtle tracks; so where's that address?

\- Oh, here you go.

Jack looked over the scrap of paper, squinting. – Huh, Turk, could you try again, this time in English?

Artie and Turk looked furtively around the corner; behind their backs was the fence of the junkyard that they had just entered a few minutes before, and where Turk picked up some electronic parts he thought would turn out useful. Artie managed to find him a disguise, which Turk put over his Utronian garments – he insisted on keeping them –, before leaving the lair, and they went separate ways from Jack.

\- Now that we got your stuff, we should find somewhere for you to stay before we meet with the Utrom.

\- Do you have any idea where to start looking? I'm not much of a help, since I'm new in town.

Artie's face concentrated; there weren't many abandoned houses, working sites or isolated places that he knew of in the neighborhood besides his own – that is, places that weren't too dangerous to stay at. He even thought about asking Angel if she couldn't help them out, but he thought better and decided he didn't want any Dragon to know about his new brother for as long as he could. – There has to be somewhere… C'mon, Turk, let's keep searching; we're bound to stumble on something. – Turk nodded and they sneaked their way across the alleyways, always in the dark.

After searching for some time, Artie got interested in an old subway entrance they stumbled by, that looked as if it was made in the 1920's. - Hey Turk, let's check out the old subway.

\- You mean there? – He looked warily at the entrance; there were many notices over, like "WARNING: DANGER OF COLLAPSE", "DO NOT TRESPASS", "PUBLIC HAZARD"… The place was dusty, and pieces of the entrance were falling down. – Are you nuts?

\- I know it's dangerous, but so far is all we've got; maybe inside we can find a safe…ish spot where you can stay for now. Do you have a flashlight or something?

Turk took out a pocket knife from his sweatshirt and turned on the small light it produced; he thought it would be safer to keep his Utrom devices hidden back in the lair, at least for now. With the light in their aid, they both went down the stairs, after making sure no one was looking.

\- What if somebody else had your idea first and is living in this place? Not that anyone the least bit smart really would do that…

\- Well, I think we will just have to hope not.

\- …

\- Let's try and find some place to hide you in. I think it would be better to look for it in the tunnels, because people are less likely to go down there.

\- Huh, can't see why…

They walked for quite a bit down in the tunnels, but first they searched the central office for a map, and ended up picking many of them because Turk felt it would be worthwhile studying them. They used one to navigate the intricate maze of tunnels, to find a new hideout. Once, when they were examining a wall, they saw a large crevice on the concrete; this gave Artie an idea.

\- Turk, the maps say if there's anything on the other side of the tunnel walls?

Turk browsed over a handful of blueprints, till he picked up the one he was looking for: - Actually, it looks like there was something: some construction shafts that they used to store explosives and tools.

\- Let's see if we can find one large enough to fit in. Then, we'll tidy it up a bit and cover the hole in the wall with something.

\- But we're going to take out the explosives inside before staying there, right? I know those things lost their explosive properties a long time ago, but I have this superstition about not sleeping with a stick of dynamite under my pillow…

They crossed the tunnels till they found it; after sliding in, they picked up the explosives, stuck them under a pile of rocks outside the shaft, and then cleaned up the place so as to make it reasonably comfortable.

\- There you are, Turk; you'll be staying here for a while, until we figure out a better place.

Before answering, Turk turned around and gave a good, long look to the place; he sighed, then answered: - Uh, I guess it'll do: it's well ventilated and cool. But what about food, and, how will we come and go as we need?

Artie hadn't thought about those details before. He turned a worried look to his brother, then to the bundle of papers under his arms. He then picked up a few crates and made a makeshift table so they could spread the maps over and shower them with the light.

\- … Wait, look at this here: it seems that the tunnels are somehow connected to the sewer lines; maybe we could figure out a way to access them from this side of the tunnels and then get to the surface by there?

\- Maybe; I'll be needing to study these things a little closer. – He pointed to the small pile of electronic objects at his feet. - However, I still have my job to do; that'll have to wait for later. Say, why don't you explore the tunnels on your own, while I build? You could find something interesting out there.

\- It's not a bad idea… but will you be safe here all by yourself?

\- What, now you're having a conscience crisis? I thought that was the plane from the start.

Artie sighed. – Okay. Just try not to make much noise; I'll be back in an hour.

He picked up an old oil lantern that was piled up with the other tools and, after many failed attempts to light up the ancient wick, left the crevice; he raised the light, so he could see the pencil marks on the map he was carrying.

The sewer lines were extensive, a very intricate maze; even with the map, Artie had to concentrate very much not to get lost, as every turn and corridor looked much the same to him. After walking a while, he found a manhole, near the end of an unfinished tunnel; he raised the lid and climbed down the stairs. There, he found a rusty grate that led to the old maintenance section of that part of the sewers. He started to explore it.

After half an hour, he had tested all the exits he could find, and had a good idea where each of them ended up, so he started to make his way back to where he left Turk. After getting at the crevice, he knocked a sign that they combined earlier so Turk would know it was him.

\- I think I figured out a couple of ways of getting in and out, bro… so, you had any luck with the electronics stuff?

\- I think I had… - He rose his head to where Artie was, smiling, as he held up a kind of walkie-talkie and threw it at him. – What do you think? Not too shabby, eh?

\- Wow, that's amazing! You did this thing using that garbage we picked up? – Turk nodded, smiling triumphantly. – How does it work?

\- Just turn down the switch near the top.

Artie did like he said; the screen of the device lit up, but then it started to fizz and shake, and Artie threw it away just before it exploded at his face in a cloud of black smoke.

\- Of course, it might need a few liiittle adjustments before we can start mass production…

\- *cough* Lucky we still got a lot of time before evening. I think I'll go out and get us some grub; you want anything?

\- Whatever you'll have… ow, by the way, when you get at the grocery store could you get me some semiconductor wafers? I think I'm running low on them.

It was almost the time of the meeting; both Artie and Turk were waiting for Jack at the spot they agreed earlier, some two blocks from the shop. Then, Jack showed up and raised his hand.

\- Yo, dudes! What's ticking?

\- Our new means of communication – Turk reached inside a bag and pulled out another walkie-talkie. –: I present to you the Turtlecom, version 2.0; patent pending.

Jack was as impressed as Artie was by the device; after they briefly explained to him how to use it, they started to make way for the shop, when suddenly Turk held both twins by their arms. – Wait! – they turned and looked at him. – I think it would be better if only one of us went over there. – The turtles looked confused at each other. – Why should we? Didn't you say they were friends?

\- I know what I said… I just got this feeling it would be wiser not to expose ourselves if we can avoid it, and get an upper hand… just in case.

\- Just in case of what? – the turtles were starting to get suspicious. – Turk, is there something you'd like to tell us? – Turk sighed. – No, it's nothing… just, okay, just listen to me: wait for me back at the corner, and if everything goes okay, I'll wave an OK. Deal? – the turtles didn't like it, but anyway, their answer was: - Deal.


	8. Chapter 8: As Fathers and Sons

Turk was nervous; he couldn't say why. The other turtles watched as he walked over to the meeting place, following him in the shadows. Turk looked up and saw a luminous sign that read "Burkins' Mattresses"; the pet shop had closed down and another store replaced it. A man in a suit was standing with his back to a phone post, his arms crossed; he looked bored, or annoyed.

Turk approached him, and the twins, from where they were, could hear him saying something odd to the man in the suit, something he apparently replied in the same odd way. After that, the man made a sign for Turk to follow him to the alley; Turk nodded, and the turtles sneaked in closer to try and see what they were doing.

\- Good evening, Turvak.

\- Good evening… Dad.

\- Although it brings me great relief to see that you are unscathed, I'm still very angry that you disobeyed my orders and activated the Telemat without permission; its unauthorized use could have been detected by either the Federation or the Triceratons. So, what do you have to say for yourself?

He sighed. - Huh, look, I know I shouldn't have done that, okay, I'm sorry, but look at things this way: if I hadn't, I wouldn't be able to find my brothers the way I did; it was a one in a million chance encounter, a storm covered most of the pulse EM tracers, there was no way it could have gone any better!

\- No way?! My son, your course of action was totally irrational; I told you we were doing our best to finish the DNA tracker based on your genetic code, that so far we couldn't make any readings, but you still chose to ignore me and foolishly run into harm's way! Why, my son? As intelligent as you are, sometimes you seem to make a deliberate effort so the opposite seem more likely.

\- I'm sorry, okay, but I just had to; you couldn't expect me to sit comfortably back in Utrom knowing that my brothers were still out there, perhaps at a dissection table, a pot of soup, or all alone in the streets; and guess what, it turns out that it was exactly the case!

After he heard that, it was the man's turn to sigh; he spoke at a softer tune: - I understand your anxiety in finding the whereabouts of your siblings, but it was a hasty, thoughtless decision of yours, and I'm still very disappointed. Speaking of them, where are they? How are they?

\- They are fine, no thanks to us; their names are Jacob and Arthur, by the way.

\- So it is true, then… you haven't been able to locate the fourth one.

Turk turned his head down. - No.

The man stepped closer and put a friendly shoulder on Turk's shoulder: - I'm very sorry to hear that… but one as intelligent as yourself might have by now considered the possibility that your lost brother most likely is…

\- No! I'll never believe that! Not till I see undeniable proof of it with my own two eyes, and I'll keep searching till then! - he turned his face at the man; his eyes were a little wet, and his jaw shook as he clenched his teeth. - Please, father… won't you help me find him? Tell me more about the pet store, the search, just anything I don't know!

The man took his hand off Turk's shoulder. - I told you everything; everything, from the reports to the files that I gave you when you came of age.

\- What about the fish bowl? Was it broken, or intact? We think there might be something to it, if it was intact, then there must have been someone there that day, someone that for some reason took my brothers from me…

The man shook his head. - The bowl was smashed to smithereens. - and, after saying that, he took a plastic bag from the inner pocket of his suit; it contained many shards of glass. - No, my son, your hypothesis is flawed; there was no one at the shop at the time it happened, it was way past its closing time. I remember it as if it were yesterday: it was raining, a heavy rain – much like the storm in which you found your two siblings –; the canister rolled down the streets and accelerated to great speed before smashing through the front window of the shop, and basically exploded after encountering resistance, spilling the mutagen all over the cages, aquaria and boxes that were there; your bowl was found far away from where it was supposed to be, pretty much smashed to pieces; I believe that it was in the way of the canister, and if so it is not unlikely that the impact must have thrown away your brothers from the aquarium and outside the window, where they were washed up by the flow to the water drains. However, perhaps fate, or fortune, had it that you weren't propelled outside the shop; you were found crawling among the remnants of the aquarium, gravely injured, yet we could see that the mutagenic process was starting, which undoubtedly had a hand in your salvation. We almost lost you that night.

Turk looked appalled at his adoptive father. - You never told me that.

He returned the plastic bag to his pocket. - Perhaps all of this was my fault; I couldn't bear to remind myself of that frightful night, and in doing so I failed to pass to you the gravity of the situation, which could have changed your mind on this endeavor; but now, do you understand why I was so convinced that your brothers should be most likely dead by now?

\- Yes… I see now. But, anyway, it turns out that two of them are fine! It means that there's still hope, there's still a chance! Please… you must help me to find him! We will be able to find him if we work together!

\- No, my son; if your brother is still alive, he will be found, of that you may have not a doubt; but it is not "we" who are going to do so. Tell me… - he started, as he turned his head around casually at the streets - where are your siblings? I still haven't got the chance to meet them.

Turk took a step backwards, looking intently at the man. - Hiding.

The man nodded in approval. - I see you still have not lost your cunningness, my crafty one. - he shot a sharp look at him, and spoke in a commanding tone: - The three of you shall come back to Utrom with me. Now.

Turk backed down for a moment, and then he dashed around and sprinted for the street. _I'm sorry, dad…_

\- SEIZE HIM! - as the man shouted, other men in suits jumped from the shadows and made a run for Turk; one of them grabbed his arm, but he managed to get loose by swinging a garbage can over his legs; after that, he ran for the open, shouting: - Guys, beat it! Don't let them follow you!

Jack and Artie saw the commotion and obeyed Turk's command as soon as he spoke it in English; they turned to the shadows and started to make their way, when Artie hesitated; Jack noticed and whispered to him: - Artie, c'mon, whatcha waitin' for? Didn'tcha hear the turtle?

\- But what about Turk? He knows nothing about the streets, and I don't wanna think what will happen if he gets lost out there in the middle of the night…

\- He'll be fine, okay? Besides, we've got those Turtlemajigs, we'll just phone and catch up with him after he loses those bozos.

\- I sure hope so… c'mon, I know a shortcut to get them out of our backs.

They made a sharp turn and ran to a manhole in the alleyway; they climbed the stairs down, and, guided blindly by Artie, who had to trust on his memory alone, they made for an isolated corner where they sat in silence for a few minutes, panting heavily from the race; after that they felt they could try to call Turk. – Turk, are you there? Turk?

A lot of static was coming from the phone, but they could clearly recognize Turk's voice coming out. – Are you guys okay?

Artie sighed in relief before answering. – Yeah, we're fine; how about you? Have you lost them?

\- Yeah, I did, but I don't know where I ended up… wait, I think I recognize some of the buildings here, I think I'm close to the storehouse…

\- Great! Stay in the shadows, I'll tell you how to get to the subway entrance… we'll meet at that spot from earlier.

\- Roger! See you there.


	9. Chapter 9: The Quest Begins

\- What was all that about? I thought you said these guys were cool, Turk – Jack walked around as best as he could in the little room; even after they shoved aside the tools, it was a little smaller than their old lair.

\- They are… It's my da- I mean, my adoptive father, Mortu; he's kinda… overprotective. Like, totally.

The twins exchanged glances, and turned at him: - Your father?

Turk looked down, as if ashamed of admitting: - Yes; he is the captain of Utrom's watchpost on Earth, and he also took care of me since I was a turtle tot. He was the one that told me about you.

They remained silent for a while; then Jack asked: - So what we do now? Get back to the old lair? I don't know 'bout you, but I think that's not such a good idea.

Artie was thinking frantically. – Yeah; the Utrom are now on our trail; by now they're probably searching every inch of our old place, and, if that wasn't enough, from what Turk told us they might have this DNA scan that could track down us with no sweat; I think it would be best if we lay low for a while. It seems that you will get our company down here after all, Turk.

Jack sighed loudly, and started: - Man, it's gonna be tough dealing this pill to the boss… but, I'll come up with something. Dunno, old neighborhood had too much smog, moved somewhere with a better view, somethin' like that.

Artie sighed. – Whatever you say, Jack – just keep your "friends" out of our necks. And, by all means, DON'T tell them where we will be living!

Jack turned an annoyed look at Artie, and made a mock salute: - Aye, aye, fearless leader!

\- Okay, so now that that's settled, we still have to figure out how to find our missing brother without getting the attention of the Utrom _and_ the Dragons, and so far we've got no clue how to do that; ideas, anyone?…

Jack was striking a piece of metal tubing at the pile of tools: - Man, this sucks… if we could get our hands on that DNA thingy from the Utroms, we wouldn't have to worry about them and we could find our bro in a cinch… But the security of their place, wherever it is, must be humongous; would take a ninja master or something to break in.

Turk's face lightened up when he heard that: - Wait, we don't need to steal a tracker; I can make you one!

The twins stared at him: - You can?

\- Yeah; all I need is to make another trip to the junkyard; I'll need your help, though, to carry the stuff, Artie.

\- Guess this is it, then; no point in staying awake the whole night; we probably should get a bit of rest now.

They made crude mats with their clothes, and tried to sleep as best as they could in that closed room, after they partially screened the opening with a piece of crumbling canvas.

The following day, the turtles woke up early; Artie taught the others everything he learned about the sewer lines in the previous day, and then Jack went back to their lair to salvage their few possessions; as he had expected, he found the place turned upside down, his and his twin's things searched thoroughly, and Turk's Utronian devices were nowhere to be found. Meanwhile, Turk and Artie went to the junkyard. They had to make many trips, as to avoid drawing too much attention; after that, they stashed all the equipment in a neighboring shaft. – What's all this stuff, anyway?

\- Broken pieces of hardware from hospitals and biochem labs – don't worry, I checked for contamination –; I'll use these things to make a small lab, where I can work on the tracker.

\- If you say so, bro; I guess I'll leave you to your work, then. If you need me, call me: I'll explore the other tunnels and passageways of these maps we found. – then, as it came to him: - Before that, I'll go and bring you some grub, so you don't have to go outside.

\- Thanks, bro… What about Jack?

\- Don't worry about him, he can take care of himself…

\- Oh.

Artie stopped and took a moment to look seriously at his brother's face. – Sure you realize that of late I've been dependent on Jack's – and the Dragons' – dough to go on. But, he can take care of himself. In fact, I think I'll go and stash our shaft with food; all on Jack's tab.

That whole evening and a good part of the night Artie made an extensive and thorough exploration of the intricate maze of passageways in the maps; before that, he had the presence of mind of burning all the copies that he found on the offices he and Turk visited earlier, as a precaution. As he was scouting an abandoned gallery, he looked curiously at a row of corridors that didn't seem to be anywhere in the blueprints; he thought checking them out, when suddenly his Turtlecom started ringing; it was Jack. – Hey, Art, just checking in; the boys in purple seem to be okay with our change of address; anyway, I'm calling it a night. Be joining you guys soon. Over. – After turning the phone off, Artie changed his mind, and made it back to their temporary lair.

He found the others around their makeshift table; Turk was eating a banana, Jack a sandwich, and they were both playing cards, by the light of a single candle. When he looked at that scene, Artie saw something he had never experienced before, something totally new to him – the semblance of a real family. A small tear escaped the corner of his eye; the others were distracted, so he was able to discreetly sweep it aside. – So, how long have you been playing that game?

\- Dunno… It's kinda boring down here, anyway, so it might have been either five minutes or five centuries.

\- Hey, Artie, I think you'll be glad to know that I managed to put up my little lab together; I believe that, by tomorrow, I'll have the tracker done, and then we can go after our brother!

Artie looked at his new brother; he looked tired, sleepy already, but he could feel the enthusiasm in his voice. That, plus his speed and apparent easiness to accomplish things, left a impression on him; he asked: - Turk, you seem to know a lot about a lot of things: you can speak English and Utronian, you made these phones for us, you put up a working lab in a single day from scratch, you say you can make a device that even the Utrom haven't been able to make for more than ten years… and you're just thirteen, like us! How do you know about so much stuff?

Turk shrugged: - Reading. Watching. Asking. And, let's just say, the Utrom teaching system is very efficient; there's just so much to learn back at Utrom, they really are a fantastic people, and I regret that your first contact with them wasn't exactly pleasant. They are also excellent storytellers, if you care to listen to what they have to say. But, I don't know, it's become more like a hobby for me; I like making and building stuff, and to learn how things work, always had. Oh, but-ahn, about the tracker, it really isn't that I'm some kinda supergenius or anything – it's just that I have in my disposition more material to work with than the Utrom do.

\- What kind of material?

\- Our DNAs. - The one to answer was Jack, who still had his mouth full of cheese and chicken. – Ya see, the trouble the Utroms been havin' ain't buildin' the machine, but that they had only Turk's DNA to work with, and that ain't enough to track someone's DNA if ya don't know what it's like; each one of us has a unique DNA, we've got some stuff in common, 'kay, but it's really like a fingerprint, and you can use it to track down someone; kinda like radar, ain't that, Turk?

Turk nodded. – Correct; since the Utrom don't know our missing brother's DNA and they don't have yours to make triangulations with, they have to use brute force to try and find the pattern, before they run searches in the open; up until now, they ended up tracking down ordinary people and ordinary turtles, instead of the one we want. Oh, and speaking of which – he had sneaked out an automatic sampler from below the table before he finished speaking, and quickly pinched Artie's arm, filling the small vial with his blood – I'll be needing this, Art; much obliged.

Artie made an "Ouch!" as he felt the sting, and quickly flinched, rubbing the place in his arm targeted by Turk, swearing. – Could have used a little warning, damn you!

Jack laughed, as Turk passed Artie a first aid sticker; he lowered the rest of his sandwich, and Artie could see he too had a sticker on his arm: - And ruin the surprise? Mah, don't get mad with Dr. Brainstein, it was my idea, after all. C'mon, lose the sore face and have a sit, we'll letcha in the next match.

Artie gave his twin brother an evil glare, then picked up a crate and sat down with them, still swearing from the pain. – I should've known… But there's still one thing about this that's getting on my nerves.

\- Oh yeah? What?

\- The Utrom have Turk's DNA, don't they? How is it that this place isn't crawling with them by now?

\- Never fear! – Turk struck a heroic pose, after he put away the vial with Artie's blood in his bag. – Before we went to meet Mortu, I had this hunch that he might have wanted to drag us back to Utrom, so I downloaded the data of my DNA to the Turtlecoms along with a program that will screen us from the tracker, and I'll do the same with your data after I get back to the lab. – He became serious all of a sudden and turned a guilty look at the others. – Sorry again that I didn't tell you guys about this before…

Jack gave him a friendly pat on his shoulder. – Nah, that's okay, bro – you didn't want to worry us too much. And, man, these last few days have been crazy enough. – He looked down to his cards, then grinned and put them on the table. – By the way, read 'em 'n' weep.

The next day, Turk spent the whole morning and the best part of the evening on his lab, finishing his implementations and running many tests with his prototype tracker, which ran surprisingly smoothly considering the quality of the electronic parts he used to build it; Artie, feeling a little guilty for leaving the whiz to work alone in the device while he spelunked in the sewers, stayed with him, to help as he could. Jack, also, wanted to help his brother, but he still had his obligations to the Purple Dragons, which were starting to really get under his skin. After the usual meeting at the garage, he stayed behind the others a little, and gave a small nudge with his fist at the Dragon in front of him. – Yo, Angel, whassup?

\- Hey, it's our favorite Turtle Boy; are you ready to tell me why you've been so sulky the last coupla days?

\- Bah, what'cha talkin' 'bout?

\- Seriously, Jake? Jakey, Jakey, Jakey, you're _so_ easy to read, even with all that cloth stuffed in front of your face; c'mon, spill the beans.

Jack sighed; Artie's face appeared in his mind, watching his every word intently, and Jack cursed him silently. – Sumfink big happened in my life, Angel – in mine and my brother's life. I've been trying to deal with it for some time now.

\- Humm… that wouldn't have anything to do with that weird flash of light in the docks the night before, would it?

Jack couldn't help but smile; as usual, he found that his friend was a step ahead of him, and he wasn't surprised that she knew about the details of his mission; after all, that should be expected from one of the best spies of the Dragons. – Maybe, maybe not; point is, I feel kinda bad leaving my brother all by himself like I've been doing; sure, the Dragons have being helping us out a lot, but is not like it used to be – now it seems like we are enemies or something, instead of being family. I feel like I'm abandoning him.

Angel looked kindly at him, as she crossed her arms. – Living in the streets ain't no picnic... Been living in 'em too for some time now, so I can tell, but I figure that it was much harder for you guys because you're just… different – she kindly stroke Jack's face, which got warmer under his scarf. – Have you apologized yet to him?

\- …

\- Jake?

Jack grunted, annoyed. - Why should I? He deserved that beatdown; why, always bossin' me around, thinkin' he knows better, acting like a…

\- … like a big brother. A brother that cares about you.

Jack kept silent; he couldn't find words to answer that.

\- Jake, stop being so boneheaded and just tell 'im you're sorry; things will get only more difficult if you keep playing Mr. I-Was-Right-All-Along; you risk losing 'im, and becoming a loser like pretty much everyone in this joint.

Jack looked maliciously at his friend. – Whoa, someone's got little love for our fellow colleagues today…

\- How can I put it? There are Dragons, and then there are Dragons. – she returned the nudge, and winked an eye. – Just don't tell the brass, will ya?

\- Never thought the idea.

\- Goodie. – she turned to leave. – Hey, give my regards to Artie – and to the other one, whatever his name is. – She winked, and stepped out.

\- What the- - Jack recovered rapidly from the surprise and laughed out loud: really, he shouldn't be surprised at all.

It was almost the end of Jack's shift; he was still thinking about his talk with Angel, when his Turtlecom interrupted his thoughts. – Yeah, it's me; whassup?

\- Jack, I finished it! I finished the DNA tracker device!

Jack then remembered his other brother – his missing brother – and decided to leave his reckoning with Artie for later; right now, finding his missing sibling was his priority. – I'm coming back right now; stay put, you guys.

_Stay safe, too._

Jack got to their temporary lair in almost no time; he absorbed quite readily Artie's reports, and he felt so secure about it that he felt he could find the place in the dark if he needed to – and he almost had to, because, even with the pocket flashlights that they now carried with them, the sewer tunnels were deep and dark, and it was easy getting lost in there, or even killed, if you didn't know which places to avoid. Now that he thought about it, he realized that Artie had actually risked his life so they could know these safe routes to come and go as they needed to, and this made him feel a bitter taste in the back of his tongue. He shook his head, driving these thoughts out so he could concentrate on what was before him – the next decision that they should make.

He passed by the shaft they lived in and turned to the adjoining hole in the wall; he knocked their secret code, and entered. Turk's lab was far from being impressive, but in Jack's mind, it was the coolest thing ever: Turk was able to find and repair several scientific instruments, such as an optic microscope, a centrifuge, assorted test tubes, beakers, erlenmeyers, petri dishes and other glassware, along with bottles containing reagents (some of which had gone bad, true, but were still of use, and which Artie, for his dismay, had to rob from the cellars of a chemicals reseller), along with a rotten workbench and a desk (both made of crate planks), with an improvised workstation connected to a portable power generator lying on it; there were also many tools, which Turk kept both in a large, rusty toolbox and in his almost brand-new bag, which he was very fond of, since he found it in one of his trips to the dump. Also, there was stuff lying on a couple of shelves Turk made so he could save some space at the clustered room. He was sitting by the modest desk, with Artie by his side; they turned eagerly at Jack after they heard him knock: - Jack, you're back at last! Look, I just made the final adjustments, and we were going to run the final test with it… Artie told me to wait for you.

\- 'Kay, I'm here now; what's this test?

\- You guys keep walking around the tunnels; I'll configure the tracker to tell me your positions, and calibrate it if necessary.

\- Roger; c'mon, Art, let's go! – he grabbed Artie by the shoulder and pulled him to the outside corridor. Turk called them: - Just walk a few paces from the entrance, and stop; I'll see if the readings are correct.

They did like he told them; they also walked further and further from the lab, to see how long was the range of the device, and, after many trials, Turk was satisfied that it was working as it should, and called back the other turtles. After they got there, he casted a serious look at them: - This is it, then. The tracker is fully operational. If our brother is alive, we'll be able to track him in a radius of about half a mile. – The twins nodded in approval. Jack said: - Great job, man; now, what we waitin' for? Let's look for 'im!

Turk answered: - Hold on, Jack; first, I gotta tell you some things; I got pieces enough to make only one tracker, so it means that we won't be able to split and look for him faster; second, it's probably smarter if one of us stay and guard the lair, just in case, so we'll have to take turns going out.

\- And third, and most important – Artie picked up –, as much as we know how much you wish to find our missing brother, if you are going to help us, you gotta promise to do that only at night, after your shift – and you also will have to quit earlier and go to bed.

\- Man, that's ridiculous! I can go on without sleep, if I need to…

\- Jack, this is very serious; we can't have the Dragons suspicious of us. You gotta promise us…

\- I can make it, I'm telling you…

\- Promise!

Jack groaned, defeated. – Fine, I promise! Whatever, we're wastin' time, let's go already!

Turk picked up the tracker, which was the size of a small notebook, and gave it to Artie: - Good luck, guys; I'll take the first turn at the lair, and see that everything is okay; keep your Turtlecoms on and operational all the time.


	10. Chapter 10: No 20538709

They started their search from the pet shop, spreading outwards, using the sewer lines as a cover; Turk downloaded maps of the area and used them to keep tabs on the areas they had already searched, which, after just a few days, was already quite large. The turtles kept searching, restless, but failing in finding their sibling after so much land covered was starting to affect their morale.

But there was more to it. After about two days keeping his word and going home earlier, Jack couldn't get to sleep; he picked up a comic book, tried to get drowsy, yet after what seemed just a while he heard the steps of his brothers on the outside; they emerged from the opening, tired, defeat stamped in their blackened eye-sockets; Artie was the first to talk: - Still awake, Jack?

\- It's not my fault; couldn't get to sleep.

\- Try taking some hot tea. – Turk suggested, yawning. – Or counting sheep; it always seems to work with earthlings.

\- 'Kay, I'll warm up some milk; you guys want some?

\- Nah, I'm good…

\- Yeah, me too…

Both turtles went to their respective corners, now layered with, rather than their clothes, more comfy mattresses that they had scavenged; they fell in, and were sleeping before they hit the blankets. Jack had stood up, and then he went to another shaft neighboring theirs where they stored supplies and other things, like a small refrigerator and an electric camp heater/oven – all stuff Turk managed to fix from the junkyard –; Jack lit the oven, which was over a small table they built, and started to heat the milk; as he looked the milk starting to boil, he punched the table: - Damn you and yer promises, Art! He's out there, and I'm gonna find 'im, with or without you guys. – He turned and started to make for the exit, but he seemed to reconsider and turned back. _Won't be cool if they get suspicious of me; better not giving them any reasons to._ He swallowed the milk in a single gulp, wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, and made it back to the other shaft, where he made a dummy with his pillows under his blanket; then, he went to the lab and picked up the tracker.

And so, from that day, Jack started to make his secret excursions, which were way farther than the ones taken by his brothers, after they got to bed; deprived from his sleep, he was starting to feel the effects, and the others noticed it, too; he tried to make excuses, saying that he had had much work lately, but they were getting more and more suspicious of him; things were like that for almost a week, when, finally, it happened.

Jack was walking under a block filled with multicorporate buildings near downtown, when, all of a sudden, he heard a beep coming from the tracker; he lost his breath for a moment, then, slowly, he turned his incredulous sight down to the screen of the apparatus; there appeared a luminous dot, bleeping in and out, and which could mean only one thing: that his albino brother was nearby.

Elated by the discovery, his heart started to pound heavily; cold sweat accumulated on his forehead, before dripping to the sides of his head and of his neck. He was paralyzed, and remained so for several minutes; then he put himself together and decided to risk a look above. It was about three and a half in the morning, and the streets were quiet; the signal seemed to come from a large building that occupied half the block that was straight ahead of him, across the street. He looked at the building, at the security cameras and sturdy-looking ten-store-high light-brown concrete walls, and understood in a flash that he hadn't the slightest chance of breaking in that place and getting out in one piece; he had to call his brothers and tell them about it. He picked up his phone, and hurriedly made the call.

The sleepy voices of his brothers responded on the other side; they were agitated after noticing that Jack wasn't there with them, and Artie was starting to have a fit: - Jack, where the hell are you? Don't tell me you've really been moonlighting, 'cause if you did, I'm gonna…

\- Art, I found him!

Artie's voice was immediately cut short; perplexed, he started: - You found – _him_?

\- Yeah! I got his signal coming from a big building near downtown; place is at…

The others rushed to the place where Jack was after they processed the news; Turk brought along his bag, which, among other things, contained a pair of binoculars, and those turned out to be quite useful after they got there. They were so excited by the discovery that Artie even forgot that he was mad at Jack for not keeping his word.

\- There's no question about it – Turk commented, after he inspected the readings from the DNA tracker –: he is inside that building.

\- That's great news; but, now that we know where he is, how are we gonna get him out?

Artie looked at the place, and, just as Jack, recognized that breaking in was out of question. – We're not just walking in there; not even in a million years we'll manage to get in.

\- Maybe we should find out more about this place – back at the lab, using my workstation. I only need to establish a connection to the web; that won't be too difficult.

\- Yeah, I think that's probably the best we could do for now; but that will have to wait till later. I think we are in need of rest – and when I mean we, I mean _all_ of us – just after he finished the phrase, Artie looked gravely to his twin brother, who nodded without a word.

\- OK; just lemme lock on the signal, so we will know if it moves from the building. – Turk started to fiddle with the tracker, and wired it to his Turtlecom. Minutes later, they started their way back to the lair, fatigued yet feeling renewed.

After breakfast, Jack went to his meeting with the Purple Dragons, as usual, and left his brothers by themselves in the tunnels; however, that day he kept calling them, to hear what they had discovered about that place and its security; - The building is the headquarters of a company called TCRI, a giant in the spacecraft and cybernetic industry; I've tried to hack into their systems, and I managed to get a partial map of the lower sections – all underground, all restricted access; it seems that the signal is coming from one room at the laboratory sector.

Cold sweat ran over Jack's face after hearing that. – You mean he's… he really is some kind of… experiment…

\- I'm afraid so, Jack, but, don't lose hope; me, you and Artie are gonna take him outta there, no matter what.

\- And those creeps are gonna pay dearly if they hurt a single scale of my little brother. – Jack hung up, almost breaking his phone; he couldn't wait till his shift was over and he could meet with his brothers – to help in the preparations for the battle.

\- You guys figured out somethin'? – Jack was really nervous; he entered the lair in a hurry, not bothering to knock. Artie and Turk looked back at him, down-crest. – We thought about it over and over, but we couldn't come up with a way to break in.

Turk tried to brighten up the situation: - Maybe I could try to override the security systems, just long enough so you guys…

\- No, Turk; it's too risky, they could use it to track us down here; you said it yourself.

Jack was quite nervous from all those developments, and shouted back at Artie: - I don't remember nobody putting you in charge or anythin'… oh, but I forgot: our great leader doesn't need to hear anybody else, 'cause anything he says is always right…

\- Cut the crap, Jack; this is not the time to act like a dork.

\- Well then, lemme tell ya're doing a lousy job at it.

\- Huh, guys…

\- And what do you know about it, anyway? While me and Turk here discussed things the whole day long, all you did was play around with your criminal friends, without a care in the world!...

\- Without a care? I found the damn place! What did you do?

\- Guys…

\- It doesn't matter you found it first; you broke your promise, you betrayed our trust; we would find it sooner or later, but you insisted in moonlighting anyway!...

\- I told ya once, and I tell ya again, smart-ass: you ain't the boss of me, and I'm takin' no orders from you…

\- I wouldn't need to if you could simply follow common sense, dammit!

\- No, ya wouldn't need to issue order me around if you were competent, ya piece a-

\- Guys!...

The twins turned their heads to Turk. As much as he tried, the newcomer couldn't get used to these fights between Artie and Jack, which of late were getting more and more often. – Really, this is not the time for an argument; we've got a brother to rescue, remember? Each minute we waste here is another minute for him there, to suffer who knows what kind of treatment in the hands of those people. Don't you prefer saving your energy to break him free, instead of arguing with each other? – Artie turned his face away. – I guess you're right, Turk. – Jack put his knuckles over the desk, fuming; then, after he punched it in anger, chipping off a large splinter, he went outside the shaft, and returned a few seconds later holding one of the old explosives they had put outside. – Blow the damn place to hell! That's what we gonna do! Turk – he threw the stick to the baffled turtle –, do these things have any juice left?

\- Well, no, but I suppose I could make them explosive again…

\- Then do it. Tonight we're breaking inside TCRI, and we're only coming out with our brother.

The turtles came up with a daring plan: based on the data he got from TCRI's system, Turk selected the spots where they would plant the explosives; they would not be enough to blow asunder the entire building, but they would be enough to trigger the alarms at many points simultaneously, so they could break in the room where their brother's signal was coming from. Turk figured out a complex escape route, so they could manage to lose their followers far away from the shafts.

The turtles prepared themselves the best they could: Artie picked up a shovel, a lantern, a mining helmet, ropes and the explosives; Jack took a pickaxe, a flashlight, lockpicks, his switchblades and even a gun from a shipment he and the Dragons had smuggled in one occasion; Turk got his trustworthy bag of tricks, along with the tracker. – I'm also taking a few more explosives with me, in case we are in need of a plan B.

\- I really hope we don't need a plan B, Turk – plan A is enough to get us killed already.

After they set up the explosives at the designated points, the turtles were breathing heavily, waiting for Turk's signal to set off the detonators; it came as fast as they expected: - Go!

A terrible, booming blast was heard all around the gallery from which they planted the explosives at the base of TCRI's building, and it quickly mixed with the sound of the fire and intruder alarms inside; following Artie's cue, they rushed into the smoky hole protected by junky goggles; they had to blow their entrance relatively far from their target, so they rushed inside in a kind of frenzy, hoping with all their might people would get attracted to the other spots before getting to the one they just went in.

A vain hope; shortly after Artie's head was inside the hole, he heard the sound of a bullet speeding slightly above his left eye; immediately, he picked up an explosive and threw it over the general area ahead of him. – Get behind me! – He held up the shovel, improvising a shield for his own head – and for his brothers', also –, before charging in, straight to the right and through the path that he meticulously memorized earlier, as he pressed the trigger that blew the charge he dropped, and that hopefully enough would buy them some time. Bullets were still coming after them, but Jack responded in kind and shot his pistol wildly through the blurred passageway, and, judging by a groan he heard, one of his shots hit the mark. – I can see the door dead ahead! Hurry up!

When they reached the door, Turk put on the digital lock a virus he had previously made while Jack covered their backs from the guards that were starting to appear from the corner they had just crossed a moment earlier; it took a split second, but after that the turtles desperately rushed inside, and the thick metal door closed behind them. – Okay, we're in, so what now?

Artie looked quickly around; there were about three people in white aprons inside, along with two uniformed men wielding assault rifles. – Jack, take 'em out, now! – Since their unusual appearance startled the guards, the turtles had the upper hand: Jack flipped out one of his switchblades and threw it at the man closest to him, while Artie jumped and pummeled his shovel in the face of the other one. The scientists were running around in terror, and one of them rushed to a computer and started typing something in it. – Oh no, you won't! – Turk leaped out and knocked the woman unconscious, then turned around swiftly and asked the remaining scientists: - The mutant turtle – where do you keep him? – They wouldn't answer, though; one of them fainted, and the other was too scared to answer; Turk knocked him unconscious, too, then turned to see how his brothers were doing: they had restrained their foes, using the ropes Artie brought along. – Guys, search this place – if my calculations are correct, we got about 7 minutes before they break in!

He himself pulled out the tracker; several minor dots lined the screen – residua, no doubt, coming from mutagen samples taken from their unwilling sibling –, but there was a great spot indicated at the other end of the room, a signal that could only come from the vital pulse of a living creature – which, he hoped, would be his brother.

Turk braced himself, and rushed to the place the device indicated, which was behind a pile of sturdy steel cages connected to a mainframe computer; right beside it, there was a great cylinder of glass, from which emanated an eerie green glow. Turk tightened his eyes, trying to look at the interior of the cylinder, and then realized, with horror, that inside it there was a monster – a white-scaled, vicious-fanged beast, that, though in stasis, still gazed threateningly at him through the glass, with cold, unmoving jet-red eyes.

\- Oh no… We are too late… - Turk put his hands on the computer's keyboard, too weakened by the vision; then, suddenly, he got his wits back in place, and started to think how he could take his brothers out of that place alive. He started to frantically hack the computer, trying to break the stasis his brother was submitted to – if he couldn't reason with him, at least he could free him from his captors. After a few minutes, a siren started to make a loud noise indicating a warning; the twins rushed back to where Turk was working: - Turk, what's going on? –; then, they noticed the cylinder – What the-? What is that thing? – But they had noticed the white skin, and the reddened eyes; as Turk nodded a sad yes, they didn't need anything more to understand.

Turk closed his eyes, as he prepared to hit the final button – the one that would finish the revitalization sequence. After that, they heard a gurgling sound, as the level of the liquid within the beast's chamber started to lower. – Time to leave, guys!

\- What about him? We can't just abandon him like that!

\- We don't have a choice; in the state he is now, I don't believe he can recognize us as friends! He'll just rip us to shreds!

\- He's right, Jack; let him go. We still need to escape this place before the guards are all over us.

\- But…

Artie didn't let Jack finish his phrase; he pushed him in the direction Turk ran off to.

\- Hurry, guys, help me set this explosive here; the blast will close the way to the ventilation ducts, after we pass through them.

Just as the turtles finished installing the explosive, they heard an inhuman growl on their backs, and watched as the thing that slept inside the cylinder stood up, looking wildly around itself, until it noticed them.

\- C'mon, climb up! He won't be able to follow us up here!

But they didn't need to worry about the reptile going after them, because at that exact moment the locked door burst open and an army of guards flooded in; this attracted the beast's attention, which started off in their direction. The turtles took a last look at the scene, then detonated the explosive and ran off to the exit escape.

After many tense minutes of crawling, climbing and sliding, they managed to get to an exit at surface level, just as Turk predicted; they breathed in the air in great doses, the adrenalin still rushing through their systems.

\- I can't believe we came out in one piece!

\- Yeah, but you can't say our mission was exactly a success, you know…

\- Think on the bright side, guys – at least, we were able to free him.

\- And a lotta good it was, since he has probably turned into a leather sieve by now.

\- Jack, we did our best; it's not our fault things turned out the way they did.

\- It doesn't matter! At least, we should have stayed and fought by his side!

\- Will you two stop bickering and be a little quieter? We're not exactly back at home, yet.

The twins knew the whiz turtle was right; they readied themselves for the long journey back home, where they could mourn their loss. – Well, at least, before we go, could you see if he is still down there? If he is okay?

Turk couldn't turn down that request; he turned on the DNA tracker for what he knew would be the last time. Then, the twins saw his eyes spread wide open. – What's the matter, Turk? Is he still alive?

\- Yeah, he is; but his is not the only signal the tracker is picking up.

\- What do you mean?

\- I mean there's something right behind that dumpster.

The turtles then noticed a faint sound coming from the direction Turk had pointed to; they came closer to it, and looked at the back corner of the dumpster, where it met with the solid light-brown wall of the TCRI building.

Cowing there and shaking in fear was an albino mutant turtle, looking back at them with terror stamped in his blood-red eyes.

\- My name… is… No. 20538/709…


	11. Chapter 11: Back and Again

\- Turk, is this who I think it is?

\- I think, it is.

\- But, how? Why hadn't you been able to track his signal back at the lab?

\- I'll bet that got something to do with that scientist: she probably let him escape in fear that we stole her precious specimen; tracker's signal must got locked on that thing's DNA, the closest match to the target DNA. But, right now, we gotta figure a way how to take him outta here with us. – After saying that, Turk stretched a friendly hand towards the albino turtle: - Come with us, brother; you're free, now –; he started to shake more, and repeated: - My name… is… No. 20538/709… My name… is… No. 20538/709…

Jack looked appalled at the scene. – What have they done to him?

After a while, the albino turtle seemed to feel Turk was not a hostile agent, so he started to walk toward him on all fours, sniffing the hand that he extended to him. Then it dawned on Turk: – He thinks he's an animal… They taught to him how to repeat words, like a parrot, but they made him think he's just an ordinary animal!

Turk tried to raise the albino to his feet, and he stayed that way, like a dog you raise on its hinder legs stays and then falls back. – Here, Turk, lemme help ya out with 'im. – As they started to make their way back to the lair, Jack turned his head backwards and shot a vicious glare at the TCRI building: - You ain't heard the last of me, creeps.

Back at the lair, after a long journey back, they fell down in fatigue, catching their breath and recovering from the crazy stunt they've just pulled out; after resting a bit, Artie asked: - Is everyone OK? Got wounded or anything?

\- I'm fine, just a few scratches; nothin' major.

\- Me too; thinking of it now, that's odd – Turk commented. – You know, the principle of evil marksmanship doesn't apply to real life, so how come we got through all that gunfire?

Artie raised his head from the soft blankets and looked at the direction where his brothers laid; then he turned to look at his own back. - Uhn, guys, don't look now, but our backs…

Jack looked at his shell; it was riddled with holes. – Geez, my shell looks like Swiss cheese! Thanks, turtle power…

Turk interrupted: - This is bad; we gotta remove these bullets fast, before we get infected. You guys take turns watching our little brother, while I… speaking of which, where the shell IS he?!

The turtles then realized that the albino turtle was nowhere to be seen, and started to panic: - Hey, little guy, where are you? Come out, we won't hurt you!

Luckily, Artie managed to find him in the adjacent shaft, sniffing and messing around with their dinner's leftovers. – Ahh, there you are! – and shouting out to the tunnel: - I found him, he's in the kitchen! – he then turned a sad look to his little brother, stretching his hand to pet him in the head, but the albino avoided him with a swift move, retreating partially within his shell. - You're hungry? I'll fix something for you…

Jack and Turk, sighing relieved after hearing Artie's shout and checking on them, turned to their room; Turk asked Jack to lay down on his plastron, while he went to the lab to grab the things he'd need. He came back shortly, holding a pair of pliers, a scalpel and a bottle of alcohol, besides the bag strapped over his shoulder. – Okay, Jack, I'll take out the slugs from you now, it probably won't hurt…

\- Wait, probably?

\- Well, I can't say for sure, I never did this before.

\- Oh, great; hearing that makes me feel much more comfortable…

\- Quit nagging… if you were hit in the arm, then you'd have reason to complain.

\- Don't think so, brainiac; my skin's thicker 'an armor; wouldn't feel an itch.

\- If your skin is as thick as your head, I'm not arguing with you…

Turk removed the deformed metal pieces from Jack's back – 14 total –, washed and covered provisionally the holes with putty; then, he explained to Jack how to do the same to him; as Jack leaned over to Turk's shell with the pliers, he noticed the exotic patterns and commented: - Hey, check it out; you got, like, tribals on your back!

\- Yeah, yeah… distinctive patterns in shell, remember? You and Artie are the twins of the gang, while…

For a moment, an awkward silence stood over them; Turk finally broke it: - Man, now that I come to it, he doesn't even have a name! He'd been alone, down there, for who knows how long, all by himself…

Jack sighed. – I know whatcha mean; damn, and all the time I thought my life was tough; but I had Artie with me all along, and the little guy, who did he have? – he paused for a moment. – We should have a name; a real name. – he frowned in disgust when he remembered the way that his brother had been numbered, like a – thing. Turk intervened: - What do you think we should call him? – Jack paused for another moment, thinking; then he said: - Michael. I think he looks like Michael.

\- Michael? I don't thin-Yeowch! Hey, watch it, butcher!

Jack grinned evilly, as he held the slug with the pliers before him – the first from a set of 9.

Artie, in the adjoining shaft, was looking with a mix of desolation and kindness at his new brother eating veggies; perhaps because of his time as a rogue, the deep silence reigning over the place, or perhaps because of the strong bond that he had developed with his family, Artie had been able to perfectly hear the conversation of his brothers in the next shaft. The albino seemed to sense it too, for he was glaring curiously at him, as in expectation. - My name… is… No. 20538/709… - Artie made a half-twisted grin: – Mikey, eh? So Mikey it is…

Turk needed to run some tests on their newfound brother, especially blood tests, to check if his health was good, and he was shocked but not surprised that he reacted with horror when he got a glimpse of the medical equipment he had in his lab, and made a terrible wail when he extracted his blood using the automatic sampler, as if he was torturing him; Turk hurried and tried to complete the battery of tests the quickest he possibly could, and be done with all that torment.

The twins weren't oblivious to any of that, but they could do little more than restrain the albino so Turk could examine him; after the tests were done, Turk analyzed the results:

\- Circulation and respiration are okay; levels of red cells, white cells, platelets, triglycerides, sugars and so indicate malnutrition, but nothing serious; blood pressure, heartbeat rate, check; hearing and sight seem to be working perfectly; his muscular responses and endurance are fine, though he still have to get used to walking on two legs; the DNA test shows without a shadow of a doubt, that he indeed is our missing brother.

\- Then does that mean he's gonna be fine?

Turk sighed deeply, and his answer was somewhat shaky: - Not quite; it seems they have been giving him some kind of drug, for reasons I can't understand, that have, as a side effect, damaged part of his liver; also, I don't know if all the trauma in his brain is strictly psychological.

The twins looked scared to one another. – Can't you do anything to help him?

\- I'll have to run more tests to isolate this mysterious drug, and see if I can come up with something that reverses its effects. But, for the moment, we can only hope he'll not get any worse.

The turtles were devastated by those news, and the happiness they felt for finally encountering his fourth and final brother was now clouded by the prospect of his impeding illness; and so they lived like that for a while: Turk could be found at the lab the whole day, trying to find a cure; Jack hanged out with the Dragons, yet he couldn't get his thoughts off the albino turtle; Artie was charged with taking care of their stray brother. Of all, perhaps this was the most painful part, since he couldn't even befriend his traumatized brother, who shunned them and cowed in fear every time they tried to approach him; it was at length that he managed to make him sleep with them in the shaft.

Sooner than later, however, he figured that his brother's mind was like that of an animal, or a small kid; so he got a rubber ball, and started playing with him; he tried to show him that he shouldn't fetch the ball with his mouth, but with his hands, and, for his surprise, he seemed to accept the idea quite fast. After that, they started to make remarkable progress: he then taught him how to walk, to run, how to use tableware, to draw pictures, and he was also a fast learner when it came to talking.

But it was also clear that his health was deteriorating: Mike was growing less agitated, he ate less and slept more, and more often than not he had those fits of fever. One day, Artie came back from shopping, and went inside the lair, where he left Mike sleeping. The first days, they were forced to restrain him, like a prisoner, so he wouldn't escape to the tunnels while they slept or got distracted, but now Artie was confident that he wouldn't leave the lair if he had the chance to do so. As soon as he entered the place, he felt something was wrong. Mike was at a corner, curled up on himself and with his back to him; when he heard the sound of Artie approaching, he turned to him, covering his mouth with both hands with a guilty look on his face; Artie, then, noticed the streak of blood coming from under one of his fingers, and then he figured all out. He rushed immediately to the lab: - Turk, help me out! He's vomiting blood!

Turk turned his back to his computer and gave his brother a worried look; then, he stood up readily and followed him back where they left Mike. He lowered himself to examine his sick brother, and while doing so had a glimpse of the small pile of puke that he had been trying to hide from them: - I was afraid that could happen; his system is starting to reject food as it isn't able to even properly de-tox it; if it continues like that, he'll starve to death.

\- Isn't there anything you can do for him?

Turk took a while to respond; he turned to Artie, a grave expression on his face: - No. But I know who can.

Artie knew in a moment who Turk was referring to: the Utrom. Since they managed to bring their fourth brother home, Turk had been bringing up the matter, arguing that, since they were all finally together, there was no point hiding from the aliens anymore, that they could live a better life in Utrom than the one they have been living up to then. The twins opposed, because after that botched attempt to capture them they didn't feel they could really trust the aliens; and things were stuck at that. But now, Artie realized that the life of their little brother was at stake; as best as Turk had tried, he knew that, if he couldn't find a cure, then they had only the Utrom to turn to. He nodded: - Fine… we'll take Mike to them. But I'm telling you, Turk: we are not going to go with them, we're just asking for their help; I'll meet them alone, tonight.

Turk didn't agree with his brother, but he thought it would be better not to make a case of it. – OK; what do you have in mind?

Artie was waiting, concealed by the shadows, atop a building next to a grocery store; like Turk had instructed him to, he deactivated the program in his Turtlecom that jammed the Utrom's DNA tracking signal, the only thing that prevented them from being discovered by the aliens. He had turned it off for about fifteen minutes, and was hoping that they were bound to show up any second now.

He wasn't disappointed; he heard a subtle noise to his right, which made him stiffen up and his pulse run faster; yet, he kept his cool, slowly raised his arms, and uttered the word that Turk had taught him; then he said: - Keep it cool, you guys; I just wanna talk.

There came a moment of hesitation; then, from the direction he had detected the noise a voice responded: - Very well, Mutanimal; what do you have to speak to the Utrom?

\- I've got a message, from me and my brothers, to Captain Mortu; tell him to meet me at Burkin's Mattresses, alone, at 9:00 P.M., and no tricks; I'll give my message to him, and him only.

Another moment of silence; Artie heard whispers in Utronian, and then silence; then, finally came the answer: - Captain Mortu shall hear you, Mutanimal, and he shall meet you alone; you need fear no treachery on the part of the Utrom.

Artie sighed in relief, when he noticed that they were gone.

The shadows yet again were all around Artie back at the alleyway – the same alleyway he, Jack and Turk almost were caught by Mortu and his agents, and where he was now waiting for the Utrom officer. Behind his back, a hooded shadow sat with its arms across the legs, quivering at the cold wind of the night and moaning a bit from time to time. A little before they made their departure from the lair, Jack showed up, and when he learned about their brothers' plan, he got furious; he started to argue, saying that they shouldn't decide important things without him, that they shouldn't trust the Utrom, but after they convinced him that their brother was dying, and there was nothing they could do to save him, he left, stomping the floor on his way out. Artie was still thinking about that, when a familiar voice greeted him.

\- Greetings, turtle.

\- Mister Mortu, I presume.

\- You presume correctly… I'm sorry, but which one of the twins would you be, young Arthur or Jacob?

\- My friends call me Artie… if you are looking for Jack or Turk, they are not here.

\- Then who is the one hidden behind you?

\- He is the reason why we called you here. – Artie turned to the shadow, and stretched a friendly hand to him: - C'mon, bro, come over… - He then pushed him gently in front of him, and asked him to show his face; he obeyed, and two deep red eyes glowed from behind the hood to the spot where Mortu stood, watching. – This is our missing brother; we call him Michael.

Mortu was silent for a moment, staring at the bloody eyes and the white skin; then he finally spoke: - I see. So, it turns out all four of you have reunited, against all odds. My son Turvak was right in telling me not to lose faith; yet I refused to take him seriously, and had practically put a halt on the searches for the three missing of you. For that, and also for that regrettable incident that took place at this very spot some weeks ago, I ask that you consider forgiving me. – He made a small yet elegant bow to Artie, as an apology.

\- We don't hold any grudges against you, Mortu; the important thing is that my brothers and I are together, now.

\- Indeed; but now that your fourth sibling has been located, there is nothing left for you here on Earth; would you now accept my offer and come back to Utrom, where you'd be treated with respect and decency, instead of lurking in the streets, living a harsh, hopeless life?

Artie sighed. – I'm sorry, but we're just not prepared yet; me and Jack, we've been living in the streets for so long, they are our home now. We told Turk that he could go back any time he wanted and come visiting, but he refuses to leave without us. And then, we've got ourselves Mike here to worry about… - Artie didn't notice, but Mike's head dropped a little after he said that. – That's exactly why I've come here tonight: we need your help. Please!

He then told the officer everything that happened since their last encounter, how Turk made a copy of the DNA tracker, how they searched for their brother, broke into the TCRI building, and then escaped. He couldn't see any kind of expression on the cold android face staring at him, but Mortu was profoundly impressed by the achievements of the teenagers; yet, he was also troubled by the mention of TCRI, and also of the reptilian creature that they had mistaken for the albino turtle and freed.

When Artie finished his story, Mortu put his hands on his back and took a step forward. – From all you've told me, young Arthur, I can see that I've misplaced my worries: clearly, the four of you are more than capable of taking care of yourselves, and not only that – you are capable also of doing great things, and, if you yourselves don't believe me, mark my words, the future will prove them right. But, let us return to more pressing matters – he turned his head to the albino, who was feeling at a loss in the middle of that conversation, and put a cold yet friendly hand on his shoulder–; we must take your brother to an Utrom infirmary at once, so as to discover the nature of this strange malady that afflicts him.

Artie nodded, and closed tighter the hood and scarf on his and Mike's face. They turned, and started to walk outside the dark alley towards the street; Artie wasn't still quite sure that he could trust Mortu or the Utrom, but after that conversation he felt confident enough he needn't worry about entrusting his brother to them. As for Mike, he was only starting to adapt to his newfound mental faculties, so it was natural that he was confused by all that and didn't really understand what was going on, but he too felt he could trust these strangers, that they wouldn't hurt him – like the other ones did.

Suddenly, Mortu came to a halt, and Artie, who was walking right behind him, stopped too. - Young Arthur, I understand you've risked much telling me the things you have; you thought you could trust me, and I must honor that trust. – He stuck his hand inside his suit and produced a black notebook filled with loose pieces of paper. He opened it and started browsing through them, picking some and setting them apart; finally, he picked up a pencil and scribbled something on what looked like a blueprint. He handed over the blueprint and the separated papers to Artie, and said: - I trust to you classified data of the Earthean Utrom watchpost central at New York City; use it wisely.

Artie took the papers almost ceremoniously. – But what are these?

\- These are the means to get in contact with me or my subordinates; also, it contains information about the place I'm taking Michael to right now, for your safekeeping, along with protocols concerning visitation hours. Rest assured, my son, and remember: you have allies amidst the Utrom.


	12. Chapter 12: Dog Days

\- Whoa, I can't believe dad gave you all this stuff! – Turk's face was beaming as he ran from one piece of paper to another. – Do you have any idea what these are?

\- Pieces of paper? – Artie was sitting by the table in their room, drinking some cocoa; after Mortu gave him the papers, they went to a phone booth, where Mortu slid a small aperture in the device and inserted a card; after that, the scenery changed, and they were immediately teleported to a place which, in Artie's opinion, came right out of sci-fi: the chromed walls, the tubes, the green and purple lights coming from crystals, that kind of stuff. Mortu guided them to a large domed room with many "beds" (if you could call them that), where, for the first time, Artie saw what the Utrom looked like; they went to the other side, and entered a smaller room, where there was a bed (with leather straps) and a cylinder that looked awfully much like the one they found at TCRI. Mortu, after explaining the situation to two Utrom doctors that were there, left Mike with them and brought Artie all the way back to the teleporter, bade him farewell, and zapped him back to the surface. Artie was still amazed by all that he had witnessed there, and he told so to Turk after he got back to the lair; Jack hadn't returned yet.

\- This, my friend, is enough to make the day of any conspiracy wackjob in this city – Utrom patrol maps, security routines, tech network hidden throughout the city, prints for secret facilities and patrolmen frequencies; all this stuff is top-secret!

\- He said I'd be able to find Mike with 'em; it seems that they change constantly their facilities, even hospitals, for safety reasons. – Turk nodded knowingly; he asked: - Did they tell you when we could see Mike again?

Artie averted his eyes. – A week, a month – they can't tell for sure how long will take to find out what's wrong with him, but they told me we can visit him anytime we want.

Turk sighed. – I just hope the little guy makes it…

Artie sensed something in his brother's tone; he tapped him on the shoulder. – Don't be so hard on yourself; you did the best you could, with the material you had. I'm sure Mortu and the others will come up with a solution.

\- Well, if you say so…

\- I know so – Artie smiled, trying to cheer him up. Then, he stretched back and put one hand on the back of his neck, while taking a long gulp of cocoa using the other. – Now it's official: mission accomplished.

Turk kept silent for a moment; then he asked: - Now that we are all together again, what happens next?

\- What? I tell you what, Turk – we will get our lives back on track, all of us; we'll find a bigger place – he stretched out his arms and gauged the room with them –, we'll figure out real jobs for ourselves – take you, for example: you're a genius with electronics and stuff, surely that's gotta turn up a couple of bucks. As for me, I'll resume work as before, and this time I'm gonna work really hard; I can take any job where people don't make a lot of questions and where they don't care who you are, like a pizza boy or something. But the best part is that, with you and Mike to help out, we can make Jack quit the Purple Dragons; I don't care how much I'll have to bother him, I won't quit before he does. Things will turn out just fine, Turk; and, even if they don't, we can always take Mortu's offer and go back with him to Utrom; we're done for life! – then, spontaneously, Artie started laughing, something he hadn't done for many weeks and even back then used to do very little; Turk's face brightened up, as he started to realize what the prospects for him and his brothers were, and soon both of them were laughing, as old friends.

With all the noise they were making, they didn't hear Jack's footsteps; after his argument with them, he ran off to cool his head on the tunnels, walking along the passages that by now where practically imprinted in his brain. After he blew the steam, he came back, and he was even willing to apologize to his brothers for criticizing them; but, just as he was getting closer, he stopped and heard a piece of Artie's speech: "…like a pizza boy or something. But the best part is that, with you and Mike to help out, we can make Jack quit the Purple Dragons; I don't care how much I'll have to bother him, I won't quit before he does. Things will turn out just fine, Turk…"

Jack then changed his mind on apologizing; instead, he turned his back and left to the outside, his mood bitterer than before. _I'm afraid things just ain't that simple, fearless._

Despite all his high-spirited talk of the last night, Artie was still worried sick with Michael; at first he considered visiting him at least once every day, but then his visits started to get less and less frequent, for he still had to find himself a job, after having being slacking off for so long. Also, his relation with his twin brother started to deteriorate; he never stayed for long at the lair, even less than before, and, when he did, they barely exchanged a word – it was like back on those days when Jack had just signed for the gang. Meanwhile, Turk stayed at the lab all day long, brainstorming on domestic appliances for them, furniture, in short, how to make their lives more comfortable; indeed, he was inspired, and Artie couldn't get much conversation out of him; he felt lonely. Now he had a family that he always dreamed of, but still, in the end, he was completely lonely.

He managed to get a job as a pizza boy, but he was starting to feel depressed. The old nightmares that haunted him when the twins still lived with Arnold were starting to come back, that weird feeling he had when he burst that bottle of liquor on the drunken man's scalp was something now fleeting in the back of his mind; he couldn't talk about those things with his brothers, so he just concentrated on delivering pizzas; but after that was done, he felt weak, sickly, without purpose, totally unmotivated. And his dreams were always there, to remind him of that: _Freak. Freak. Freak._

Not after long, he started to spend his free time walking around the city; he wasn't as careful as he used to be, but he still wasn't totally carefree: he covered his face tightly, walked like a normal teenager would, tried to look normal. He befriended a group of kids of the neighborhood who used to hang out near the school's basketball court; he played there with them, made some jokes, fooled around. It worked out nicely at winter – when everybody used heavy clothes and his appearance wasn't so strange –, but as spring came closer he started to hang out with them less and less. After that, he became more depressed still.

He resumed his walks around the city – sometimes even during his deliveries – meaningless walks, that often looped back to where he started from. He felt deep within that somewhere, somehow, he had lost his focus, the same focus that always led him to put himself ahead of his twin brother when danger came along their way, that let him guide their small band through that insane mission to rescue Michael, that gave him the patience and zeal to take care of their traumatized sibling. – "Fearless"… hmph… maybe so, Jackie; but I'd like it a million times best if it was "flawless"…

It was during one of these walks, during a delivery, that he stumbled upon a martial arts dojo called "The Dragon's Foot"; he looked at it casually, there was nothing remarkable about the place, the only reason he bothered doing so was due a link he made with Chinese food, which he was thinking about. However, on another occasion, as he was riding the pizzeria's bike, he passed by the back of the dojo and then recognized the place from the other day. He stopped, thinking about it. It was Saturday, the dojo was probably closed, but he anyway felt like taking a look at the front door; he always liked karate and that kind of stuff, though the only contact he had with it were some fights he picked on Jack's comics and stuff he picked at the papers or the radio (which Turk had fixed for him by then, of course).

However, he started to get really hooked on martial arts after Turk managed to find and repair an old TV set for them; after work, he would sit in the shaft, alone, and watch reruns of old flicks, and his favorite ones were of kung fu, karate and the like. Indeed, it had grown on his mind, and he had these daydreams, these delusions where he learned to fight and became a master, an action movie star – anything he wanted.

He sighed; it was silly, he knew; he saw those guys wearing kimonos for practice, he couldn't simple waltz in wearing one and ask how much for the lessons. But still, as all poor kids he had that innocent notion that looking at the toys inside the store through the glass is almost as good as having them, so he figured taking a gander wouldn't hurt.

The place was tucked between two tall buildings, and, at the left from where Artie stood, there was an alleyway connecting the back of the house with the front; he took off the bike and made for there; but then, just as he closed the dark corridor, he felt a weird sensation – perhaps the one fleeting at the back of his mind? –, a sensation that got him attracted to the back of the house; he got tense, and his rogue instincts from his earlier life took over; they allowed him to make out a distinct noise coming from the back of the dojo, a subtle yet unmistakable whisper of battle sounds.

Artie couldn't say why, but all of a sudden he felt curious to see who was making those sounds; he reckoned that most probably it was just an instructor having some practice, yet he felt the urge to go and see for himself what was going on. As he approached the back of the building, his awareness increased a thousand-fold, and he suddenly realized why: he had watched karate and kung fu flicks enough to get that those sounds were coming from someone training using not fists and feet but steel and wood. Also, for all he knew, this guy could be training some secret technique that wasn't available to the general public.

The idea piqued his curiosity even further, along with this childish devilry that sprout on his mind: whoever this instructor person and whatever his secret techs were, he was going to sneak on him, outsmart him, and learn it all by himself, as he laughed behind the back of the man; it would be more fun than watching old flicks, it wouldn't cost him a penny, and he didn't have to sign up anything. So, he looked up; the sounds were coming from a window one store high, where there was a balcony. Artie spun his head around to see if anybody was looking and then, as silently as a gecko, started to climb the wall; he reached for the wooden balcony, one hand at a time, careful not to make it creak, then pulled himself up and eavesdropped concealed by a large vase that was there.

Inside, an Asian man wearing a traditional kimono spun around a large staff with a small blade protruding from its end, over a room matted with straw and screened by Japanese paper partitions. Artie was amazed at his speed and grace; each blow he made was quick, precise and most likely lethal to a foe, yet he almost made no sound at all. He swirled around his staff, until it reached tremendous speed, to suddenly stop it with the side of his free palm. Artie watched as he performed this move; he was momentarily with his back to the window, but all of a sudden the man's shoulders tensed and he made a dazzling backflip towards the window and shot the sharp end of his weapon at the vase; the turtle flinched blindly, guided by instinct alone. It was sheer luck that the blade only grazed his back, but Artie could feel it slashing a gorge in his shell, and he could only imagine how bad did that look.

But he didn't have much time to wonder; as soon as he threw the staff, the man made a run to where he was; he thrust a finger on a spot at the base of the turtle's neck, then pulled him up by the collar of his hoodie to the inside of the apartment, while, in a single, fluid movement, shutting the windows.

The mutant turtle was completely dumbfounded; after the man's finger connected to his collarbone, he felt an excruciating pain for a split second, and then a morbid numbness spread throughout his entire body; he could only hear as the man yelled at him something that sounded like Japanese, while threatening him with the weapon. However, for a moment the man seemed to pay closer attention to the physique of the intruder, and he was particularly interested at the slash he had made at Artie's back. He lowered himself, and ripped off the hood and the scarf covering his face; his eyes grew wide. – _Kappa_?

He then touched the turtle's nerve spot one more time, which allowed him to feel his sore limbs and pant heavily. The man then resumed his interrogation in a softer, more cautious tone, but Artie still couldn't understand a thing he said; he sat on the floor, and raised his hands as he started to apologize: - I-I'm sorry, mister, I sneaked up on you, but I meant no harm, I swear! Please, let me go, I promise I'll never do it again, ever!

After hearing that, the man relaxed and leaned over his staff, laughing: - You don't sound much intimidating, _kappa_; but certainly it is an unusual thing to meet a water spirit that can speak English so well, of that there is no doubt.

\- _Kappa?_

\- Yes, an ancient, mischievous Japanese goblin that is said to resemble the shape of a turtle; but I'll be guessing that, even though your appearance is mostly unusual, assuming that you are a water spirit would be too far-fetched, wouldn't it?

Then it dawned on Artie that he had been caught; his secret exposed, he tried in vain to hide his face from the man, who simply leaned over and held up his chin, so he could better examine the turtle's face. – Remarkable… each day I pass on this country I'm led more and more to believe that everything do happens in America. – his expression then grew darker. – But there are still points to clarify; who are you, turtle-being? Why did you spy on me, and by orders of whom?

Artie was shaking; his heart was racing wildly, along with his head, and he was at a complete loss as what to say. The man neared his staff's blade tip to this throat, and ordered: - Answer! – The turtle choked for a second, then started: - I-I wasn't spying, sir, honest! I was just curious, I mean, I heard those sounds of weapons and I wanted to see what was happening… - The man raised an eyebrow. – Is that so? – Artie nodded vigorously: - Yeah, it's true! I swear! And I don't work for anybody, well, huh, I mean, I don't, I mean, I'm a… - the man's grip on his weapon's shaft grew stronger. – You are what? – the turtle was scared out of his breath: - …I'm a pizza boy.

He then got up slowly, with both arms raised, and went to the window, followed all the way by the tip of the blade near his throat; he opened one leaf of the window, enough so he could point out his bike lying down there in the street. – See? I work for Vinny's Pizzas, you can ask him if you'd like. – He then closed the leaf, and raised his arm again.

The Asian man looked straight at Artie's face: - Excuse me for disbelieving your words, but I can't help pointing out that you look a little unconventional for a delivery boy.

\- I-I know… but Vinny doesn't know I look like this, I told him I cover my face because I'm deformed by birth; if he'd knew the truth, he'd probably call the police, or maybe the zoo, I can't even say…

There was a pause; then, the man continued his interrogation: - I ask you again: what sort of being are you?

Artie knew he couldn't stall forever. – I'm… a… mutant… - the last word came out as a whisper; he felt a flurry of intense emotions pent up. The man looked intrigued: - A mutant?

\- Yes… a freak… - two hot tears fell from his eyes; Artie, feeling both embarrassed and defeated, returned the man's look with his teeth clenched, in a frown that expressed both frustration and anger. The man hesitated for a moment, then continued: - Are there others like you?

\- … No. I live on the streets, all by myself, and I've got only this job to go about.

\- Is that the truth?

\- …

\- … I see. – he withdrew his weapon from Artie's throat, but not his eyes. – Do you have a name, _kappa-_kun?

\- … Arthur. – he turned his head down to the floor, as he spoke.

\- Well, Arthur-kun, I must still find a proper punishment for your untimely intrusion; do you know what that should be?

Artie turned up as quickly as he heard that. – No, please, sir, don't call the police; I'll do everything you say, just don't call the cops…

\- Indeed, you will, Arthur-kun – he started to stroke his own chin, as he reflected on his better course of action. – I have a mind to have you work here on my dojo, dusting the mats, mopping the floor… yes, I think that would make us even, don't you agree?

Artie couldn't avoid sighing in relief; he mopped up the sweat on his brow. – Yes, I think that will do, too…

\- Excellent… you may start.

\- Wait, you mean… right now?

\- Yes; is there a problem with that?

\- Well, yeah; I still got those pizzas down there to deliver!

\- You won't need to; I will explain to your boss that you are now working for me; in fact, you will also move to the dojo, as I require of all my employees.

\- But I just can't! What about my fam- - Artie slapped shut his mouth with both hands, utterly shocked by his own stupidity; the man just smirked. Artie was about to give an explanation, when the man rose his hand: - You may leave today; but I insist that you come back tomorrow, when I'll have properly meditated on what role my dojo is to have in your life; and if I were you I wouldn't even consider the idea of ignoring my summons. For, you see, I… - he then disappeared on a cloud of smoke, just to reappear right between Artie and the window - …am skilled in the arts of ninjutsu; tracking your hideout is not a problem.

Artie turned around as soon as he heard the voice on his back, and gave an incredulous look at the man. Of one thing he felt sure: that that guy wasn't someone he'd like to give a reason for shadowing him. – O-OK; I agree, sir. – The man bowed to him, and Artie felt he should probably do the same; he then said: - Well, I think I'll just leave from where I came, if you don't mind, sir. – then he remembered: - Ow, and by the way, I forgot to ask your name, sir.

\- My students know me as Hiroto; you, however, are allowed to call me Yoshi – Hamato Yoshi – as long as you are here on my private training quarters. – He then opened the window and stepped aside for the turtle to climb it down.


	13. Chapter 13: Torn Apart

Artie obeyed Yoshi's summons and, first thing early in the morning, he rang the bell on the front door of the Dragon's Foot; Yoshi himself came down to let him in. They climbed up the stairs that led to his quarters, passing through the _tatami_ where he gave the lessons; on the way, Artie took a good look at Yoshi: he seemed to be somewhere between the end of his twenties and beginning of his thirties; he wore leather straps over his wrists and ankles, and wore sandals as the day before, but, unlike the previous day, now he wore a black garment with a red symbol on his chest and back – the same symbol that was painted on the sign with the dojo's name. After climbing the stairs, Yoshi slid aside a door that seemed to be totally made of paper, and they found themselves again where they had parted ways the previous day. – So it seems you're prepared to wit what fate holds in store for you, right, Arthur-kun?

Artie grunted. – Just tell me what I gotta do, right? – as soon as he finished, Yoshi produced a bamboo stick from a fold under one of his sleeves and slapped him in the back of the neck. – Ouch! Hey, what was that about?

The teacher ignored him: - Your assignments are as follow: you are to clean the dojo, before and after each training session, and you must care for all the training equipment, such as the bamboo swords, armor, kimonos and so on; you are also to look after my living quarters, which, as you might have guessed by now, is also within this building, and, finally, you are also eligible to run a few errands for me or in my behalf.

Without his new boss noticing, Artie rolled his eyes, annoyed. - Is that all?

\- Yes; that is all. As I've told you before, I use to have my employees live in the dojo; that way, discipline can be enforced on them as well, who otherwise might influence negatively my students. That means you, too, will have to live in here.

Artie was down-crest; he didn't know how he would tell the other guys about this – last night, he didn't touch the subject, for he thought he might be able to resolve it the other day, but things weren't looking up. – For how long will I have to do that for you to be satisfied and forgive me about yesterday, mister Yoshi?

\- As your punishment, you need serve me so only for today. You may then keep your job as a delivery boy, if you'd like, and you'd come out of this experience as you were before, except perhaps becoming a little wiser, knowing better than spying on other people. – Artie felt uncomfortable, and he was thankful that Yoshi was with his back to him, instead of staring accusingly.

\- However… - Artie felt something odd about his tone; instead of the stern, serious one Yoshi had used with him up till now, this time he sounded more relaxed; friendly, even. – Tell me one thing, kid: why the heck did you really climb up my balcony for? – he turned, and Artie saw a malicious smile crossing his face; he didn't know what to think of that. - Well, I guess it is just that I really wish to learn karate or stuff like that, but, as you've seen, I can't simply sign up anywhere, so, when I heard you fighting, I figured you'd be practicing some moves, and, well…

\- …you thought you could learn all by yourself… and without having to pay me a nickel for it. – the maliciousness in his smile vanished, and he started laughing. – Kid, your idea is old; you think I became a ninja just by wishing for it?

Artie was speechless. – You mean you… too…

\- I sure did; but that, my little green friend, I think is a story for another time; meanwhile, I've got a proposal for you… - He started to walk around Artie, for a while, before he continued: - It comes in two parts: the first one is, what would you think of working here at the Dragon's Foot permanently, after your debt is cleared? Of course, I don't expect you to work for free, and I do believe being a pizza boy don't earn you much in the way of tips.

The turtle considered for a moment; he wasn't so sure it was a good idea. – Gee, mister Yoshi, I dunno what to say, I…

\- Then hear part two of my proposal: if you stay and work as my employee at day, I think at night I could train you in the ways of ninjutsu, here.

It took a while to Artie actually get Yoshi, and, when he did, it ran over his mind like a locomotive. – You mean you…

\- Yes, I do.

The turtle put both hands over his own head, in fear it would blow up. – But you can't… YOU REALLY CAN'T…

\- Of course I can; I am the ninja master here, I teach whoever I want to; isn't this a free country anymore?

\- … Wait; what's the catch?

\- I told you; you got to work for me, remember? And don't look so surprised on me, I might reconsider about actually _paying_ you at all…

Artie was calmer now; he tried to reason all that: - But, seriously, mister Yoshi, why would you want to teach me, anyway? Isn't that kind of stuff secret, like in movies, comics…?

\- Life is not at all like comic books or movies, my friend. – he got upright, with his hands on his back, with a serious expression again. – Tell me, how old are you?

\- … 13.

\- 13… - Yoshi turned his back to him. – You know, ninjutsu really _is_ a very well-guarded secret… but, like any other secret, it must be passed on, or else it will vanish into oblivion; so how do you think all the ninja masters have passed down their secrets to younger generations, if they can't simply trust in the first Joe that comes along their way, asking to be taught? The thing is, those who'd like to learn our trade, must first pass a test; and of course, what better test to prove one's worth than to manage to actually surprise a ninja master? – the turtle held his breath after hearing that; he believed he knew where Yoshi was getting to. – The point I wish to make, kid, is this – he then turned his face to Artie -: yesterday, well, you totally got the drop on me.

They remained silent for a moment; then Yoshi continued: - So you see, kid, I'm not doing you any favors; you've earned your chance at ninjahood; you can take it or leave it.

Artie was having a hard time absorbing all this; he finally said: - But still, why are you so ready to trust me? Didn't you notice, by any chance, that I – and he removed his hood and scarf as he spoke – am this?

Yoshi turned fully around, and crossed his arms over his chest. – _Kappa_, you said yourself you had family to care for; I don't know if they are like you, I won't ask and I don't care – but I can see it in your eye that _you_ care about them, that you'd do anything to protect them. Think about it: you must be strong, yet you must also be stealthy; being a ninja is about both, it suits you perfectly. What have you got to lose?

\- Plenty; I have a… problematic brother who'd got involved with some stuff I don't care for, and I don't know what would happen to my family if I got myself involved with crime…

\- The Foot are not petty criminals – he said with pride, hitting his own chest. – See this symbol? I made it inspired by the original insignia of my clan, the Foot Clan, which, legend has it, is a replica of the footprint of a dragon that walked the earth long ago, scorching the soil as he touched it. The Foot are not petty criminals – he repeated –; we may need to steal or even kill, but we only do so if the cause is just and if there's no other way around. We're not the greedy mercenaries you may picture ninja to be; we're free, and we fight with honor.

\- Then what happens if I say no?

\- Your life continues the way it is now; New York City won't be a pizza boy shorter because of that.

\- That's kinda hard to believe…

\- You don't need to believe; all I'm asking is that you choose. – he raised his hands, waving them: - Of course, not now; you can take your time thinking it through… and, while you're at it – he seemingly conjured a bucket with a mop out of thin air and threw it on Artie's direction –, you could start cleaning up the entrance; you should probably polish up the trophies there, too, they are not as shiny as they used to be…

That night, as Artie walked his way back after finishing his deliveries, he had a hard time assimilating just what happened; it had been difficult enough to accept that Yoshi was actually a real ninja – a warrior of myth and legend –, but to think that he wanted _him_ to become one, it was simply too much; it seemed much more reasonable to expect that all of that was simply a con, some sort of plan to exploit him, probably to have him work for free or something. _Then again,_ he thought with a smile,_ giant mutant turtles and aliens that wear robotic suits; it's beginning to get difficult defining "impossible"._ However, as strange as it sounded, Artie felt that there was sincerity in the man's tone, and that he could trust him; besides, he had no other choice, since he knew about his true identity, and could use it against him if he didn't cooperate; he sighed. _Seems like I've got no choice on this._

Suddenly, he stopped short on his track. _Wait, how am I gonna tell the guys about this?_ Artie didn't mention his previous encounter with Yoshi to his brothers, but now he felt there was no way avoiding that; but how could he make them believe that he was going to leave them to train under a complete stranger to become a ninja?

Artie was at a dead end. He took off a small notepad from his jacket, and then walked down the street towards a phone booth; perhaps seeing Mike would help him get the strength to confront his other two brothers.

Back at the lair, Artie threw his things aside, and sat down by the table; Turk, as usual, was at the lab, and Jack was there, too: he heard their voices as he passed in front of the canvassed hole in the wall. Fragments of his visit to the Utrom infirmary assaulted him: seeing his albino brother there, in that stasis chamber, with all those cords and plugs on him always let him down. But this time, something happened that gave him hope: for the first time in what seemed an eternity, he saw Mike's eyes open, and the albino actually smiled to him. Artie felt somewhat relieved seeing that, and it also gave him the resolution to do what he felt he must do.

However, now that he was there, his hesitation came back, so much that he torn a piece of paper off his notepad and started scrabbling a note; he was almost finished with it when he heard Jack's voice behind him: - Yo, fearless.

Artie turned back, startled; he stared at his twin and at Turk, who was entering the shaft right behind Jack. Jack noticed the blank expression on his face, and asked casually: - What's the matter wit' ya? Cat got yer tongue or sumthin'?

\- …

\- Whatever, suit yerself… - Jack took off the mask he was wearing, as he was preparing to lay down to sleep; Turk, on his part, was about to do the same.

\- … Guys…

\- Hmm?

\- I… I'm… going to leave the lair.

Jack turned sharply his head at Artie's direction. – Come again?

\- First thing in the morning… I'm leaving the lair.

Turk was staring incredulously at him. – Wait, Artie, what're you talking about? Are you gonna leave, just like that? What about us, about Mike?

\- It's for the better… besides, it'll be only for a while, till we find a better place to live, and stuff. You remember how crammed this place was when Mike was here with us, dontcha? When he comes back, at least you'll have a little more room without me here.

\- But…

\- Hey, what's the matter wit' ya, genius? If he thinks he's too good to live here, nobody's forcin' 'im to. You wanna leave, fearless? Fine by me; you can go to hell, for all I care. – For his part, Jack turned his head back to his pillow; he muttered softly to himself: - Freakin' fine by me...

Turk's mouth was still wide open, motionless, as he watched Artie stand up and go to his corner, while avoiding looking at the whiz's face. – Good night, Turk.

\- N-night, Artie…

When Turk woke up the next morning, he turned his head around the shaft; Artie was nowhere in sight.


	14. Chapter 14: The Old Country

That day, Turk forgot all about his gadgets; for the first time since he met his missing brothers, he felt completely alone, and couldn't help wondering if Artie's sudden departure could have anything to do with him. Was it something he said, something he did? As he was musing about such things at the lab, he then remembered what Artie told about the lair, and, as he did, it struck him: the uncharted part of the sewers! Clearly, if the problem was finding bigger living quarters, he might be able to find something by those parts.

As fast as he could get up he looked up on his computer, after connecting to the sewer department's files, to see if he could find anything about it; not a single corridor appeared on the vicinity of the place Artie had marked in their blueprints. This was really odd, and intrigued him; he decided that he should go and look for them himself. So, he took a lantern, his trusty bag, and marched off into the unknown.

After several minutes, he reached his target: it was a great, damp corridor that had many corridors running from it, like branches off a tree. He then took out a device from his bag, none other than the old DNA tracker but modified by him for the task of recording his way through the sector. While the program charted the prints for him, he looked at the walls: some of them had a distinctive look, resembling more catacombs than sewer tunnels, and Turk wondered why; he knew that portion of the sewers was old, probably dating back to the 1920's or the early 1930's, yet it all had this odd feel, like it was much older…

Suddenly the roof disappeared way above his head, where a gigantic pipe poured down green water on a hole some thirty feet below his level; right ahead of him, a grated steel bridge was suspended. He looked at the red-brown spots that lined the bridge: he wasn't one bit looking forward to cross the darned thing, if he could help. But it turns out that he couldn't: he had completed his search on that part of the tunnels, and it seemed the only way to go ahead was across that gallery, and the only way to get across the gallery was – guess what – the rusty bridge a hundred years old!

He started to make his way across it by crawling gently, to avoid disturbing it; but some booming noise coming from the piping above startled him and he lost his balance; he reached for a support, and felt his arm get cramped as he needed to twist it in order to avoid falling down there in that pool of muck. However, it seemed his luck was running out: the support was starting to fall apart, and, in the awkward position he was, he couldn't reach for the platform with his other hand. Then all of a sudden, the support gave out, and fell down; and Turk would have gone along with it, if a mysterious hand hadn't quickly pulled him up at the last moment.

When Turk turned his face toward his savior, he couldn't help screaming when he saw a human's face staring back at him: - Ahhhhh!

\- Ahhhhh! – the girl screamed back; by the light of his lantern, Turk could see she was about his age, and had strands of purple in her hair; soon, another voice was heard in the corridor ahead, a voice that Turk recognized with great relief as being Jack's: – Angel! What the hell is going on there?

Both Turk and the girl shouted back at him: - Jack, there's a human girl down here! – Jake, who the hell is this?

As he saw his brother approach, Turk heard a gruff. – Calm down, Angel, is just my brother Turk – he's not a monster or anything; just looks like one.

\- What the- Jack, you know this person!?

\- Yeah, yeah – been hangin' 'round wit' her for longer 'an wit'ya, bro. Now: Turk, Angel; Angel, Turk.

\- Nice to meet you, "Turkey". - She held up her hand; Turk, still a bit disorientated, shook it sluggishly; she then reached for his fallen bag and tracker: - Here, lemme help ya with your things.

\- Th-thanks...

After gathering his equipment, Turk rushed to his brother and started to whisper frantically: - Dammit, Jack, what the hell are you doing? Who's this human girl, and why does she know about us?

\- Relax, brainiac; she's a friend. We both have history with the Dragons...

Turk then started to remember Artie told him something about an acquaintance of Jack's from his gang, that knew about their secret identities; as he further recalled, the name "Angel" did sound familiar... he chose to shrug it off his mind, and simply sighed. - That still doesn't explain what you two are doing down here, muscle-boy...

\- Same as you, my good turtle: thought fearless' speech from yesterday about our home condition got only into your bright mind? So I was thinkin', and I figured I'd start lookin' for 'em tunnels fearless spotted the other day; and, naturally, two people searching find things faster than only one; better yet wit' three, if ya follow my hint.

Turk took a deep breath, and chose his next words carefully: - Jack, I believe you came to this old place to search for a new secret hideout, just like I did; so, bearing in mind the concept of "secret", why in blazes is _she_ – and he nodded meaningfully in Angel's direction – also here?

\- Well, duh, that's because it'll be lots easier for her to call us after we skip address if she knows the new address; why else?

Turk looked stupefied at his brother's face; but then, he shrugged off those thoughts too and instead asked: - Whatever; have you two found anything yet?

\- Not really; we came down here just a few minutes before you. We got Artie's notes to come by, but that doesn't seem to be a problem for you. - he then pointed at Turk's tracker. - You definitely get around, dontcha, lil' bro?

\- Yeah, I guess I do.

\- Great. So, what's the holdup? Let's get a-going!

\- … Yeah, OK...

Turk turned around and stared at the girl's face; she did seem friendly enough, but it was difficult for him to put aside his suspicions, having lived in secrecy with his brothers for all the time since he came back to Earth.

\- Bah, that ain't gonna do... - Angel and Turk could hear the annoyance in Jack's voice, and they couldn't blame him; after all, they had searched for what felt like days the old corridors, which were just that – corridors after corridors, all unmapped in their charts, all damp, musty and filled with a dusty and heavy atmosphere. The place was oppressive, as if there was a presence down there, lurking in the shadows, watching as they walked through the forgotten passageways. Turk, once in a while, caught a glimpse of strange, often bizarre inscriptions here and there in the walls, which looked much like ordinary graffiti, but that were oddly out of place in there. Also, his tracker seemed to be experiencing some sort of malfunction, for no apparent reason at all, since he had just checked it before leaving the lair.

Angel stopped for a moment, turning her head around, and said: - Guys, I think I recognize this place; we're walking in circles.

\- Ohhww, man... - Jack really wished he had something to kick really hard and make a lot of noise with, but there wasn't a single pipe or can down there. - That's just great news; terrific; so what are we supposed ta do now?

Turk put on the light over their annotations and his tracker's screen, and then he turned his head around; although the directions in that place were highly counterintuitive, plainly confusing, he guessed that they had explored most of the complex by now – except for one last corridor, tucked between two main passageways. - Well, it seems there's only one place left for us to check out.

\- Lead the way, bro; let's be done wit' this already...

They walked down the small passageway filled with pipes coming out of the walls and floor, like veins and arteries in an arm; it was a short walk to an arc that lead to a spot they had already visited, which led further in to a dead end.

Jack looked truly disappointed; he sat down, holding his back against the wall. - I guess this is it, then; we seem to have ran out of ground to cover.

Turk, too, was down-crest; he had really hoped that down there they would be able to find a safe haven to move in. Suddenly, Artie's words from last night came back to his mind, and he put his back on the wall filled with pipes, trying to sort out his thoughts.

Then, when his shell hit the piping, the noise it made surprised him. He sprang up, took a screwdriver out of his bag, and started to hit delicately the metalwork.

-What's that now?

\- Shut up. - After each hit, Turk could distinctly hear a hollow sound, except on the spot his shell contacted earlier; he then tried gluing his ear to the cold brickware, knocking on it with his knuckles: for his surprise, it echoed in the distance. - I... I think there's something behind this wall!

\- Like our mining shafts?

\- Could be. - Turk then turned his attention back to the old pipework, and examined it more closely; it was a mess of metallic pieces, bolts and valves, all old-fashioned and teeming with rust. He started to fumble his way through the metalwork, until he felt the jut of a piece that shouldn't be there, and pulled it up; a grinding sound was heard then. - Aha! Jackpot!

As Angel and Jack stared beside a grinning Turk, they saw the wall recede and slide sideways, lifting a heavy cloud of dust during the process. Jack whistled, and tapped on his shoulder: - Well, I gotta hand it to ya; nice trick, brainiac! - he then waved his hands and nodded towards the hole in the wall: - You found it, you get the honors... - Oh, no, really, I don't mind... - but Jack was already pulling him through the secret entrance into the unknown interior.

Turk gulped, and then lifted the lantern: he found himself inside a large recession in the tunnels' walls, right where there should be only solid rock. There were some steps down; for his amazement, down them he found a sofa and a desk, many files, and also a very old radio communicator; evidently, someone lived there, a long time ago.

Jack and Angel were at the doorway, so they couldn't see what he was doing; Turk thought calling them down, when he caught a glimpse of something lying on the musty sofa. As he got nearer, he saw a book or heavy-bound notebook; he picked it up, and opened it in the first page: it read "Randall Cartwright, II". Apparently, it was someone else's diary. Turk decided to keep it, and managed to discreetly slip it into his bag, for further study - perhaps it might contain clues on who lived there before, and, who knows, some useful data on that part of the sewers. - Everything OK, come check this place out!

Meanwhile, as the others climbed down, he managed to find a switchboard on the wall: - Awesome! We have electricity! - he checked the old generator next to the switchboard, and started working on it; after a while, the machine made a loud bang, and started humming monotonously, as the lights flickered on all over the forgotten room, from a crystal chandelier in the domed roof.

The place was far better than anything in their wildest dreams: the main room, where they were now, was huge, about one hundred and twelve meters square, and the ceiling some five meters high. There was a lot of furniture there, besides the sofa: cabinets, bookcases, desks and bins, and a lot of antiques, dating back to the Depression. Looking around, they could also see small niches or something like that on the walls, most of which were littered with piles of paper and exquisite artwork, and, of course, the pipework that surrounded everything; part of it was connected, it seemed, to a large heater lying in a corner.

For the first time since he could remember, Turk saw Jack laugh: - Our lil' bro is gonna have a shell of a surprise when he gets back from sick school, ey, Turk?

\- Haha, yeah...

_ A real surprise... for all of us..._


	15. Chapter 15: The Guy in the Alley

After the discovery of the secret vault, the two turtles, aided by Angel, moved all their things from the mining shafts to the new lair; it all was so exciting they didn't care much about the place's safety, and left checking that for later. The trips took them long enough, however, mostly because of Turk's lab appliances, and, after they were done, he was left there alone by Jack and Angel, who had to report to the Dragons, at a loss as to where he should start working.

Jack was reminiscing this, a few months later, as he was with his back to a building in a dark alley where he was doing his night patrol. He was thinking loudly: - Hmph; Artie, Artie, Artie; seems like, as soon as you get outta my skin, things start to look up... - he then seized something inside his jacket: he took a cigarette from a crumpled pack, lit it (with a stolen lighter) and turned his face to the building, to... alleviate himself.

\- You know, you shouldn't smoke; that's really bad for your health...

Jack startled with the sound of the sudden voice, but then quickly regained his cool after recognizing it. - So, it's you, huh? Hang on a sec...

After some awkward seconds of silence, Jack spoke again: - You know what else is bad, fearless? Calling back on family, after ditchin' 'em. Really, really bad.

\- I didn't leave because I wanted; there were circumstances...

\- Shove them; why the visit?

\- … Michael...

\- Oh, so you still remember 'bout 'im...

\- He's to be released from the Utrom's care anytime now; I thought that this would be the right moment to tell you guys some things I've been meaning to...

\- Tch. - Jack was losing his patience – talking to his twin always did that to him -, and he was losing it fast. As he was still with his face turned to the wall, he tried to buy some time, until he could figure out Artie's position.

Just then, he felt a hand reaching for him, immediately at his back. - Jack... - Quickly, Jack turned around, dodging the hand, and threw a punch where he calculated Artie's face should be. - Yer full a crap!

But then, to his surprise, his fist had hit nothing; a grey blur moved to his left, dodging the hand with a slick move of his own, and, shortly after, a three-fingered hand slapped the cigarette out of Jack's mouth. - I told you, smoking is bad for your health – even more when you're only fifteen.

That did that; Jack went berserk. - FUCK YOU! - he tried to turn around and kick Artie's knee, but all he managed to do was to hit the brickwall; he cursed, as Artie spoke: - You know, Jack, anger blinds you, and blindness makes you clumsy.

\- I'll show you clumsy, you damn clown! - he backed up from the wall until he saw Artie fully in his field of vision, and delivered two or three punches, all of which his twin dodged, and, after that, Artie simply came forward and shoved Jack back, nearly making him trip to his back. - Stop this foolishness, Jack; you don't stand a chance against my technique.

This time, Jack's reply was a growl, as he hurled himself towards Artie. This time, his twin disappeared in front of his unbelieving eyes, and, a split second later, Jack heard a voice on his back: - I warned you.

The next thing Jack felt was a powerful blow on his head from something very heavy; and then, he lost consciousness.

Artie panted, as he carried his twin down the sewer's path to their old lair; but, as soon as he arrived, he didn't find Turk there, which alarmed him. He remembered the Turtlecom, however, and called for the first time in a long while; an astonished Turk answered, and told him they had found a new lair in the uncharted portion of the sewers.

Some time later, Turk arrived at the old lair; as soon as he saw Jack, he stopped on his track. - What happened to him?

\- I had to... um... calm him down.

\- And you did a excellent job at that... did you use that sleeping pill strapped on your back?

\- My _bokken_? Yeah, I did; anyway, help me carry him to this place you talked about...

\- Wow, I can't believe it; this place is perfect! - Artie was amazed at the discovery his brothers made in his absence; by now, Turk (with more or less some help from Jack) had tidied up things, and they could live there more comfortably then they had up to that point. They left Jack resting on the hammock he had put up for himself on a corner; Turk, who kept silent the whole trip, finally spoke: - Why did you leave us, Artie?

\- … I'll talk after Jack comes to himself.

They didn't have to wait much; after a few minutes, Jack started to groan, and then opened his eyes, while rubbing the back of his head. - Aaarghh... what the hell hit me? - he then saw his twin at his side. - You! Damn you sonuva...

\- Calm down, Jack; this time, try to listen, instead of getting knocked out cold.

Jack measured his twin with a thorough look, then gruffed and said: - Fine. Can I have some ice? I think you managed to crack my darn melon.

After Jack got his ice and Artie and Turk got some stools, Artie told them all about his botched stealth stunt, about Yoshi and about his ninjutsu training at the Dragon's Foot dojo; at first, they thought he was joking, and scolded him for that, but Artie insisted that, as unlikely as it sounded, it was all the truth.

\- You idiot, you do realize that this could all be simply a trap, a scam, a con?

\- Yeah, I know that... At first, I wasn't sure if I could trust him; that's why I didn't ask for your opinion, guys, I didn't want you to be involved in this. But, after living with Yoshi's family for so long, I feel, more and more, that it's for real, guys, it really is...

\- Art, lemme just remind ya of something I think is very important rememberin': you can't trust 'em stinkin' humans. Didn't living with Arnold teach you nuthin'?

\- You trust Angel, don't you?

\- Well, I-uh, ah... Th-that's different!

Turk interrupted. - But, even if it turns out to be a scam, you don't need to worry, bro; we've got you covered, don't we, Jack?

Jack averted Artie's look, and took his time to answer. – Yeah, whatever… but that doesn't mean you can butt your fat head into any setup you see in front of you and expect us ta risk our necks for ya.

\- Does that mean you're okay with my choice?

\- It means I don't care 'bout it – just don't expect me ta show up and clean yer mess.

Turk knew Jack was only being grumpy (more so than usual because of the bag he was holding over his head), so he turned his attention to Artie: - You can still count on me through and through, Artie – and on Mike also.

-… Yeah, speaking of 'im, looks like the alien boys finally figger'd out what's wrong with our bro…

Artie got the news from their Utrom informant; he then remembered, with a bit of remorse, that he hadn't visited Mike for a while now, and that made him sulk a bit. – Yeah, I got that already; but, whatever was the matter with him?

Turk got a little uncomfortable on his seat; he twitched a bit on it, them said: - It seems TCRI developed a formula to try to keep Mike believing that he was indeed an animal, so he wouldn't be able to escape; also, Mortu was able to find out more about it in the secret files and reports he disclosed after the Utrom made TCRI close down; the name of the formula is TCX-5, and the reports said that, in theory, the damage could be reversed using a counter-formula from a certain family of compounds combined with a high applied magnetic field; the Utrom are working on this line even as we speak.

\- What brainiac here's tryin' ta say is, lil' bro will be here anytime soon now; that's the important bit.

So, finally, their small brother would get home – for good; they could start over again, try and make everything right, the first time in their lives. Artie took the dojo's brochure he picked up at the end of his term from his pocket and looked at it; real job, real security… - Guys – would you consider applying for ninja?

The other two – even Jack – turned their faces at him, dumbfounded; Turk was the first to reply: - Hell, yeah! That would be totally awesome!

\- Art, the shell you talkin' about? Sounds like you and not me got a bang to the head.

\- I mean it; but first, I got some treats for you. - he then unstrapped from his back a white cloth sack he had been holding up to that point, and which his brothers were curious but didn't had the chance to ask about. Jack said, ironically: - Oh boy, I wonder what Santa got for me; hope it ain't coal...

\- Considering it, I don't think you've been exactly a good boy; however, what is inside happens to be much more interesting: - he then unwrapped the sack and showed its contents; Turk examined them: - A stick, a pair of letter openers, and a pair of...

\- Chucks! - Jack hurriedly grabbed the weapons from the sack, seemingly forgetting he was with a splitting headache.

\- Yeah; I asked sensei if he could teach you guys too, or even let me myself do it; he not only gave me permission to teach you ninjutsu, but also he gave me these weapons, for you guys to choose from.

\- Really? So, what's the catch?

\- There is no catch; if you want to do it, then I'll teach you what I know; if you don't, then you can just keep it, for self-defense. Either way, I think you should consider the _second_ part of his proposition...

\- Which is...?

\- Come work with me, in the dojo, for the Hamato family; there, we can have a lair, we can have a purpose; we can have a happy life.

\- … Yer crazy... either that, or that Yoshi character brainwashed you...

\- Jack, before criticizing me or my sensei, could you at least consider the idea?

\- Oh, but I do consider it-consider it a pile o' bull'... 'sides, what use could a martial arts joint owner have for four turtles?

\- I begun cleaning the place and stuff like that, but now I'm training to be a instructor for the beginner's class; I work using traditional clothes, there's a mask and all, which is not weird because it kinda also is publicity for the dojo, makes it more exotic...

\- 'Kay... even if that would be really what is going to happen, why should we leave? We already have a lair-and a pretty darn cool one, for the record.

\- Well, we can sort things out with sensei later, that's not a problem; so what do you say?

\- I say...

\- Count me in!

\- What!? Turk, you too been brainwashed? Damn thing must be contagious...

\- Jack, think about it-think how cool it would be to be a ninja for real! Think about the awesome moves we'd do using these... - he picked up the stick in his enthusiasm. - Uh, well, not really with _this_ one...

\- It's called a _bo_ staff – Artie explained. - It's great for long range, as you might have guessed. It's one of my master's favorite weapons; why don't you try it for size?

Turk did that, and, after waving it around a bit, he seemed to change his mind. - _Bo_, eh? I think I'll keep it; but might as well do some minor modifications.

Jack simply shrugged. – Huh, your funeral. Lamest weapon ever. – Turk was more excited about it: - So, could you teach me some moves?

Artie stretched his right arm and enveloped his two brothers with it: - Hey, after I learn the moves, I'm gonna teach all you guys them…

Jack shoved Artie's arm aside. – Don't patronize me, bub – I ain't falling for no mumbo-jumbo garbage some con man shoves down yer throats.

\- Have a little more positive thinking, Jack; it could make wonders for your humor…

\- I know what could make wonders for my humor, Turk: kickin' yer shell wit' these babies here - he raised the nunchucks and tried to make a stunt with them, but he hit himself in the head instead. - Ouch! Hey, that ain't funny! I swear, the first clown ta laugh again is toast, ya hear me?

\- That's too bad, Jack; but, why don't you try the _sai_ instead? My master says it takes great skill to use them.

Jack grabbed the ninja blades. - These letter openers? Well, I guess I really am good using knives, so... - he waved them around a little.

\- So, Michael gets the nunchucks, then.

\- But what about you?

\- I have my training _bokken_, and that's enough for me; you know, I made it myself, after I heard a tale my master told me about Miyamoto Musashi, one of the greatest swordsmen of all time.

\- Really? And what was that tale?

\- Oh, you wanna know? Alright, I can tell you...

Annotation

\- Sir, do you think it's a good idea?

\- Arthur-kun, if you're going to work here, the first thing you'll have to learn is that all my ideas are good.

\- Yeah, sir, but, I'm not sure if your wife...

\- Relax, I've talked to her before; besides, she's a strong woman, you won't be able to scare her that easily...

\- I hope so...

Yoshi knocked, then opened the door in front of them: - Tang Shen?

\- Yes, my love, come in.

Yoshi entered the room, and gestured Artie in. - This is the one I told you about... Arthur-kun, if you'd be so kind as to show your face...

Artie did as he said; the reaction of the woman was not of shock, but more of a mild surprise – a polite surprise, even. She got up from the desk she was working on, and approached the turtle. - Your appearance is indeed rather unusual... - she reached a hand toward his face. - May I...?

\- Uhm, yes, sure.

She scanned his face with her fingers as if she were blind, and for a moment he even thought that she was actually blind, but her intent look to Yoshi dismissed that. - That's amazing; are you sure you are not really a water spirit, Arthur-kun?

\- No, I'm not a spirit; I'm a mutant turtle.

\- Yes, that's what Yoshi told me, but I couldn't believe it, until I saw you here, right in front of me.

Yoshi coughed lightly to call their attention. - So, I think I'll leave you now to talk to each other; Tang Shen is my accountant and helps me with administration, you should take the chance and ask her any questions about your duties and schedules, Arthur-kun. - after he spoke, and Artie dressed himself up again, he left the room and, before closing the door behind, remarked: - If he tries to eat you, my dear, just shout. - Then he was gone.

\- So, you claim to be a mutant turtle, Arthur-kun? My husband isn't much of a scholarly type – in fact, he barely has any formal education –, so I doubt he could appreciate what it means; but tell me, how is it possible to exist a walking and talking human-sized turtle roaming around Manhattan?

\- I... don't really want to talk about that...

\- Is that because you have a family that is also mutant?

\- Yeah... and because, there are secrets in our story that aren't mine to tell, ma'am...

\- Here you may call me Lotus – she held out the eponymous flower from her working desk –; that's my ninja name, so to say; think of it as a sort of mercenary codename...

\- You are a ninja, as well?

\- Of course, darling; Yoshi taught me all I know about ninjutsu, after we married. I dare say that, even though I haven't practiced it for as long as he did, I'm almost as skilled as he (but please, don't you ever say to him that you heard that from me).

\- Of course, ma- erm, Lotus.

\- Well, I guess you had some questions about your assignments, didn't you?

For about a quarter of an hour, Tang Shen answered Artie's questions about his new job, and gave him some advice on how to perform his chores; after that, she dismissed him: - After you leave, Arthur-kun, could you please call Yoshi here?

\- Sure.

Artie did as she asked, but, after Yoshi entered, he stayed for a while, and was able to grasp some of their conversation: - Yoshi, are you sure about bringing in that one?

\- Yes, I think so; he has stealth skills, and besides, he seems like a good kid to me...

\- That may be, but what if he suddenly turns into a monster, and starts attacking people? What about our child?

\- Don't worry about Miwa: I'll always protect her, as I'll always protect you. As for Arthur, I think we should give him a chance: he and his clan managed to live in this city many years now without ever being detected, so I'll guess they don't have a habit of attacking people; besides, such a life must have been one full of deprivations, not much unlike our own lives, back in Japan...

\- ...Yes... and I feel sorry for him. Perhaps, I'm just being too motherly because of our newborn baby, but, looking at him...

\- … you wish you could adopt him, right? So that it would be possible to help him out more? I considered the possibility, but I reckon he would never desert his clan, and, even if he did, it wouldn't be to take refuge on the house of someone who got him eavesdropping. No, I think the better is to give him this job, and give him some training, so that he can use it to his and his clan's advantage; that's how I think we can really help.

After hearing all that, Artie left, thinking about what he learned from the conversation; however, it touched him so deeply that only much later he would notice the peculiar that, for that particular conversation, the Japanese couple spoke privately in English...


	16. C16 Not Exactly What They were Expecting

The day of Michael's release came finally, and the turtles were anxious to claim their brother back; Turk, especially, was worried about the collateral effects of the formula that prevented him from thinking rationally, and if they could have been undone. They met at night, as agreed, next to a portable toilet. Really, it is suspicious for three heavily clad people to enter the same toilet in the dead of night, so they took turns of five minutes for each one to enter, but not before scanning around to see if there was no one in sight.

After they zapped down and passed the security protocol, they entered the meeting room where Mortu was expecting them. - Ah, you have finally arrived-there's someone here who is very anxious to see you...

It wasn't long after Mortu finished greeting them, a white blur jumped from behind him and dropped down on Turk, who was ahead of the others. - BROTHERS! YOU'VE COME TO VISIT ME! - a baffled Turk answered: - Uh, y-yeah, we di- - but he couldn't finish his phrase, as his assailant jumped over to the twins, who were gawking in disbelief, and hugged them. - So, why did you take so long to get here? How are you? Why are you wearing a lot of clothes? Where are we going next? Why...

\- Uhm, yeah, it's great to see that you're feeling well, Mike, but, uh, you seem to have changed a bit since you left the lair...

\- That, my friends, I think I can explain. - the turtles turned their attention to Mortu as he stood with his arms crossed in front of the medical staff that had treated the albino, except Michael himself, who was busy fumbling around with Jack's hat and raincoat. - After many months Dr. Obligado's staff – and he waved a hand towards the Utrom behind him – were able to develop an antidote to the TCX-5 formula; however, the formula, although preventing Michael's brain to develop sentient thoughts, wasn't able to repress his memories and experiences back in the TCRI laboratory, and it seems that when the antidote was administered not only did it make him able to fully think rationally but also made Michael reprocess those memories and automatically _learn_ from them, all at once, which also catalyzed his curiosity to _understand_ what he saw up to this point; in other words, he has a lot of catching up to do, and I'm sure you are more than willing to help him in this quest.

\- Yes, we are. Thank you, Mr. Mortu, for all you've done for us. - Artie shook the cybernetic hand of the alien, while holding back a tear. Turk approached them: - Yeah, dad, thanks for helping us out. - Jack was brooding, and spoke, after a moment of silence: - Hmpf. Yeah, thanks. Guess you guys aren't as bad as I thought, after all...

\- I'm glad that you think better of me and my people now. But, I don't think I should hold you here any longer; as I said, you've got a lot of catching up to do.

And so, after wearing Mike (which was no simple task) with a spare disguise they had brought with them, the turtles once again thanked Mortu and Obligado's team and left the Utrom infirmary where they came from; a cat passing by the street saw the four funny-looking figures leaving the same portable toilet, but didn't pay it much attention and continued its nightly stroll.

Back at their (new) lair, Mike literally jumped off his clothes and started to hop around like a frog, wowing at everything inside the huge room. - Wow, guys, how did you ever find this awesome place?

\- We'll tell you later, don't worry; but first, are you feeling alright?

\- Me? Of course I am; back at the infirmary, I didn't have this much room to stretch my legs about; this is awesome!

\- So, no pains in your backside, no feeling light-headed or anything?

\- Nnnope. Hey, come on, let's play a game or something, guys, just like we used to!

\- Um, later, Mike; for now, I think you should lay down a bit, you just came back from an hospital...

\- …and while yer at it, you could tell us about what those creeps at TCRI did to ya back in that freaky lab of theirs...

\- Jack!

\- Wha? I still owe those bozos payback for what they did ta 'im, and I gotta make sure I pay it full. - as he finished this sentence, Jack punched his own palm, an angry frown in his face.

\- Sorry about Jack, Mike, but you know him, he's too much of a hothead.

\- I'm okay talking about the laboratory, if you wanna know.

\- … Really?

\- Yeah. - They stood in silence for a moment; then, Artie moved to the sofa, sat down, and crossed his arms. - Anytime you want to.

Mike and Turk sat on the sofa as well; Jack came closer to them but didn't sit down, instead putting his elbow on the back of the sofa. - Well, the memories I have from back then are kinda foggy, but I can remember stuff that I heard the people there saying, and some other things I remember very clearly: since I can tell, I lived in a cage – a small cage; it wasn't a problem when I was younger, but even when I grew up I didn't care much about it. Now, it all seems so... odd... those people feeding me that funny stuff that tasted like mold, the times that they put me in a bigger place where I could crawl and swim and stuff, while wearing those thingies in my chest and my limbs... the worst was when they strapped me to a chair or something and sticked me with a metal thingie, you know, like the one you have – and Mike pointed to Turk - and then it hurt a lot, like the worst pain I know, and then everything went foggier, and then I would wake up with a splitting headache. I was very scared of that metal thingie, but more often they sticked it in me and it didn't hurt as much, but I could never say. Then, one day, _he_ appeared...

\- He? Wait, you mean that monster that was in the metal tube in the lab?

\- I don't know what a monster is, but _he_ was much like me, except he was bigger, had big fangs, mouth and tail, and didn't have a shell, but his smell was kinda like mine, and he was also white and scaly. Sometimes, they put us together in the big place; most of the time we never minded each other, but sometimes when I got closer to him, especially in the beginning, he would attack me, and once, he almost killed me, but the people rushed on and pulled me out of his jaws. After that, though, he didn't seem to mind me as much; I think it's because he changed very much overall: he first was lengthy and had four stubby legs, but started to grow more muscle and to grow his front and back legs different; the people seemed to have trouble controlling him, so they locked him inside that tube for a while before you came up.

\- Hmm... thinking about it that thing did look kinda like a gator; I wonder if he made it through the guards...

\- Why? What happened to him?

\- Erm... - Turk didn't want to talk about the way the turtles entered the lab and left the creature there to its own luck; Jack interrupted: - Say, we didn't gave ya yer birthday present yet – he ran to the desktop, took out the nunchucks from a drawer, and threw them at Mike – Catch! -, who caught them laughing. - Hey, what's this? Is this food? 'Cause I'm starvin'... - He tried it, but then started spitting in disgust. - Nheh, if this is food it's worse than lab mold...

Jack tried but couldn't help snickering. - It ain't food, Mike; it's for kickin' butt...

\- Huh?

\- Ya know, punch-punch, jab-jab, kick-kick... - he did the moves as he talked.

\- Oh...

After a moment of silence, Artie said: - So, you said you're hungry? Well, I think it's dinner time for for all of us, anyway, so let's get to it...

\- First intelligent thing I heard ya say today, Art; what's for grub?

\- Hmm... you know, since today is a special day, I think I'll go out and get us something; better than eating leftovers, anyway...

\- Grumph. 'Kay, but make it snappy, ninja-boy, 'cause now that you've mentioned food my stomach's startin' ta rumble.

\- Will do. Hold on to your shoes. - And, after saying that, Artie threw a small pellet to the floor, and disappeared in a curtain of smoke. Jack coughed: - *hmph* *phpf* Show-off.

\- Wow, what was that?!

\- That, sonny – he took one of the nunchucks from Mike's shoulder and started to swing it slowly –, is a looong story.

As he promised, it didn't take long to Artie to come back to the lair; Mike had been pestering his brothers with questions, while poking around everything inside the secret hideout, and, when he was shown his room, one of many connected to the main room through a corridor, and discovered the mattress the turtles salvaged for him, he kept jumping on it despite Turk's concern, until a strange, delicious smell invaded his nostrils, long before the others could notice. - Alright, Artie's back! And he's got food!

Artie had had some training in ninjutsu for now, but even he was surprised when Mike jumped on him and grabbed the box he was holding. - Hmm, yummy! - he was about to bite the cardboard box, when Artie took it off his hands and opened it. - Uh, here, Mikey, help yourself. - And, after he did, Mike, with his mouth full, asked: - This is the BEST stuff I've ever eaten! What's it called?

The ninja turtle just shrugged. - Pizza.

It felt strange to be there with them again, in that new place, after so long; Artie woke up sooner than the others, and left already. Before going to the dojo, he had to do some groceries for Yoshi, and, on the way, he kept thinking about last night, and he couldn't help but smile when he remembered that the four of them were together, finally; they had a nice place for themselves, and things finally started to look up.

But perhaps it was too soon to jump to conclusions; he was a block away from the Dragon's Foot, when he smelled smoke; he rushed ahead, suddenly taken over by a bad feeling, and froze when he saw the dojo burning. The paper bag fell from his hands, as he started to run to the building. - Shit!


	17. Chapter 17: Revenge

Artie rushed in; the fire hadn't spread much, and must have started a few minutes earlier, because the firefighters weren't there yet; but Artie knew it wouldn't be long before they did. He shouted around, calling for the dojo's staff, but there was nobody there – they were on vacation, and only Yoshi and his family stayed. He ran to his sensei's quarters, and realized, to his dismay, that the doors had been broken apart. He could hear feeble sounds coming from the inside; the fire was spreading now, and fallen debris started to hit him, but he ignored it and barged in. He feared the worst.

Hamato Yoshi was lying on the ground, over a pool of crimson, his eyes closed; the moaning the mutant heard was coming from him. Artie saw, with horror, a nasty gash across his chest bleed non-stop; the wound was fatal, he knew it; there was nothing left for him to do.

Suddenly, Yoshi opened his eyes a little; he saw the turtle, and gestured him to get closer. Artie was at his side in an instant. - Master, what happened? Who did this to you?

Yoshi breathed in heavy spasms; he could barely speak coherent words: - Arthur... _kun_... - he moved with difficulty, raised a pair of swords that were on his side, and shoved them in Artie's hand.

But the mutant didn't have time to react; a cracking sound was heard above, and when he looked up he saw that the roof would cave in any minute now. The smoke was all around the two of them, irritating the turtle's eyes and throat, but still he turned back to his dying master, who pulled his arm to get his attention.: - … Wife... daughter... out... - his breath was hoarser now, and sweat was pouring from his forehead; Artie was relieved that Tang Shen and Miwa were fine, but urgently asked: - Master, please, don't tire yourself; everything's gonna be f-f... - he felt the stream of tears running down his face from the smoke get larger and colder.

Yoshi now grabbed his collarbone with both hands; he opened his mouth, but it took a while before the words came out. - Arthur... _kun_... protect... Shen... Miwa... Splinter... - he pointed to the dragon-cage where he kept his pet rat, and with the other hand pushed the mutant turtle in its direction; Artie, like a zombie, tucked the swords on his belt and ran for the cage, not really knowing what he was doing. When he secured the rat, he turned back to Yoshi, but then a large wooden beam fell down between the two, grazing the left side of Arthur's head and his shoulder. He tried to get past it, but the fire, at that point, had grown too much, a blazing inferno now between him and his master; he couldn't hear him anymore, and, in despair, ran for the window, the only exit available. It wasn't long after he did, that the rooftop collapsed, and the entire building along with it.

Artie stared in shock at the flaming ruins; the hands that held Splinter's cage were shaking badly, and the tears wouldn't stop, even without all the suffocating smoke. But then he got a grip on himself, when he heard the sound of sirens buzzing in the air. - Shit! Gotta vanish!

He rushed into a nearby alley, watching the incoming fire trucks from his hiding place, when, in the middle of the chaos, he spotted a grim woman holding a baby, staring in disbelief at the destruction. Artie felt a strong urge to run and talk to Lotus, but he managed to control himself and stay hidden, sobbing, behind a dumpster.

Then, he saw they taking her away in a police car; he started up, a bolt of adrenaline rushing through his body, and climbed swiftly the emergency stairs above his head to the rooftops, from where he could follow the car without being noticed.

Tang Shen was calmer now, though the tears still poured from her eyes; Miwa had cried for some time then, but mercifully it wasn't possible for her young mind to understand what just happened.

She was defeated. There was nowhere left for her to go. Her family? They would never take her back. Friends? Either dead, or lost all contact with. Up to that point, all she had was in New York, and right now, all she had was cradled in her arms, sleeping innocently.

\- Psst!

Shen turned around; from the shadows of the alley beside the police district, she could make an odd shape holding something in its hands, from which came a squeaking sound. She walked slowly in its direction, holding her mouth with a hand: - Oh, Arthur-_kun_... - she didn't knew what to say, so she hugged the mutant covered in soot and sweat with her free arm; he was shaking, and cold. They stayed like that for a moment, before Arthur risked saying something: - H-How are you, mistress?

Shen sounded confused when she answered. - I've been better, Arthur-_kun_... what about you? You were... - she turned down, and saw him nod. - You saw him?

\- … Yeah. - he felt it was stupid, but he tried to change subject. - I've got his swords, and Splinter – he raised the dragon-cage for a moment to show her the pet rat; it had some burns from the fire, but it was overall fine, despite it's old age. Even so, Artie felt it wasn't much consolation.

The woman said nothing; she just stared at the rat, trying to pretend that none of that was real, it was just a bad dream or something. She went to have her baby her shots, and, on the way back, she must have dozed off; yes, that's how it happened. It must be.

\- Mistress? - Artie shook her arm gently. He didn't get any response. - … Lotus?

She looked at him, almost as if she had noticed him for the first time. - Huh?

\- Where are you going now?

Shen looked down to her daughter, who was still sleeping; maybe because of the vaccine.

\- Nowhere, Arthur-_kun_... I-We've got nowhere to go.

Arthur took some time to speak. He started to stutter. - Th-the se-sewers are not the p-p-place for lil' kids, b-but, your presence would honor my f-family, mistress...

Shen attempted a smile, and hugged the mutant for the second time. She tried to talk, but only a whisper came out: - … Thank you. Both of us...

The lair was gloomy; even Mike, who had just gotten back to the real world, wasn't feeling like playing. Shen had never met Artie's brothers before, but when they first met, the circumstances weren't the happiest. She would've been impressed by the place, even more because, as his husband's apprentice stated that they lived in "the sewers", she hadn't her expectations up.

When they arrived, all other turtles – even Jack – were there; Jack started to yell something, but stopped when he saw Artie looking as if he had swept chimneys the whole day long. They didn't give any explanation; Artie just asked for them to fix a spot for Tang Shen and Miwa. Their lair was bigger than even Turk had expected, with many empty rooms, secret entrances and still potential for expanding; Turk walked them to an empty room which was in better shape than the others, and helped Shen tidy up the place while the others were out for stuff to put on her room.

Except Artie. He was sitting on his own room, staring at the swords his master gave him shortly before... No, it couldn't be. Maybe, in spite of the wounds, and the fire, and the cave-in, maybe a rescue team managed to pull him out... Yoshi was a ninja master, after all...

He closed his eyes; he knew it was useless. Picking up Splinter's dragon-cage, he asked the rodent, as if expecting it to answer: - He really is dead, isn't him? - the rat didn't answer, but for an instant its eyes glowed in a strange way.

The mutant turtle turned his attention back to the swords. He unsheathed one, and watched his own reflection in the impeccable surface of the blade.

\- Moonflash [Tsukinosenkou].

\- What?

\- The ninjato you're holding; it's name is Moonflash.

\- … Oh. - he didn't speak further; instead, he slowly raised the other sword.

\- Starfire [Seitonohi]. - Shen walked in and sat next to him. Artie asked: - What about your daughter?

\- She's fine; still sleeping. And you, Arthur-_kun_?

\- … Lotus, do you have any idea of who could have done that?

Shen didn't answer immediately; she tried to clear her mind, while fidgeting with her hair. She knew that day would have come, sooner or later, and, like it or not, she was more or less prepared for it, even though at first the shock took the air out of her lungs. But Artie, the mutant boy before her, was still in the dark; she was dying to ask about Yoshi, but decided it could wait a little longer. - Yeah, I do.

\- … So?

Shen sighed, and got up. - I'll make some tea.

After she left, Artie stretched himself in his bed, both hands under his head; suddenly, he was feeling very calm, cool even. He raised a hand, and started to scribble in the air with his finger, while jogging his mind trying to remember what it meant. After a while, he realized that he had been writing "復しゅう" in the air; he immediately put down his arm when he heard Shen's footsteps just outside.


	18. Chapter 18: All That is Not Lost

\- Balance, Turk; you need to concentrate on your balance.

Artie was sparring with the whiz; he was spin-kicking him, and Turk was having trouble trying to block those. As it stood, Jack fared a little better than he; well, at least, he didn't hear any complaints from Shen, who was the one sparring with him.

The three brothers didn't use any clothes during their training, except leather belts strapped with pockets filled with _shaken_, _tetsubishi_, _kaginawa_ and other ninja contraptions, which they also used to carry their weapons, when they weren't using it. This was because Artie noted that, because of their shells, fighting clothed restricted their mobility; the experience, however, was something that neither he or his twin were used to.

Mike wasn't in the lair; he was out, running across the sewer in a training mission, kind of an obstacle course. The objective was to pass through the obstacles the most stealthily he could; Artie and Shen would see how he was going using the sensors Turk installed in the sewers. Just in case anything went wrong, an alarm would go and tip them off to the rescue.

One would be surprised to see how he and his brothers evolved quickly: a year ago, after hearing Shen's story*, Artie became rather distressed. Too late, Shen noticed it and tried to calm him down, saying that he shouldn't go and do anything stupid: he wouldn't stand a chance against Saki with his current level of skill. Artie himself wasn't fully convinced.

\- If you think I'm not good enough for the Shredder, mistress – he spat –, then try and stop me!

He then rushed to the lair's entrance; a mistake he would later regret.

Lotus, without a word, jumped out and outran Artie to the stairs that led outside; her face was cold. - Very well, then; if you beat me, I'll let you go and throw your life away fighting Saki. Fail, however, and you'll do as I say and stay.

\- Deal! - and, as he finished speaking, Artie rushed in and threw a fist in her direction, but Lotus slapped it sideways and punched him in a way Artie felt was clumsy. However, a moment later, he saw that it hadn't been clumsy at all: she took his _bokken_ from his back, and now was holding it with both hands.

Artie got worried; he tried to buy time, throwing a smoke pellet on her, thinking naïvely that it would distract her enough for him to disarm her, but Shen was expecting something like that, and covered her mouth and eyes with the scarf she was wearing. Artie reached for her, hoping to claim his practice sword before she could regain her senses, but all he got was an upward swing from his own sword. His nose bled; he backed up, but he didn't intend to give up just yet.

He ran around, looking for something to use as a weapon; he found some of Turk's tools resting on the sofa, so he took them – a wrench and a hammer – and jumped back to the fight. He looked up: he thought he could try and use some of the pipework to his advantage; but, just as he looked down, he saw that Lotus had vanished. For a few seconds, he was a sitting duck; then suddenly he felt a heavy blow on his chest, and he fell down; he tried to get up, but the wooden sword hit him in the face. He tried to protect it with one arm, but then Lotus kicked the other one, making him lose his balance, and pointed the tip of Artie's _bokken_ at his face. - If I were the Shredder, you'd be dead by now.

\- You've made your point; I give up. - But, just as he was starting to get up, he threw both tools on Lotus's direction and got up quickly; the ruse, however, didn't work, as Lotus parried them and kicked Artie's knee before he got up completely; when he fell down, she kicked hard his flank so that he turned over, plastron to the ground. She also hit hard on the back of his neck with the wooden sword. - Promise to be a good boy?

Artie cursed a lot, before saying: - Fine! I won't go after the Shredder!

Shen sighed, in relief. - Good; neither one of us will... - she threw Artie's sword close to where he was.

\- W-wait, what? You mean, you're okay with it?

\- I didn't say I'm okay with anything. It's just that... - a infant's cry was heard from Shen's room; she turned her head down, sighing. - Well, there's your answer. - And she left Artie there, to attend Miwa.

When Artie got up, he saw his three brothers looking down at him, a smile stamped in their faces. Artie shouted, annoyed: - What are you three grinning at?

Jack's smile widened. - Your new friend really handed over yer ass to ya, eh?

Artie bolted up, panting. - She's not my friend... I mean, she's Yoshi's wife; I brought her here because... - but then he silenced; the shock was still recent, and it came back storming. Jack's smile diminished a bit; Turk was the first to talk: - Well, what is she doing here? What happened?

Artie looked down, sighing. - It happened like this...

And, as he told the turtles the events of the morning, the smiles gradually vanished from their faces. After finishing, Artie sat down in the floor, holding his head against his fists. - And that's it; from now on, she'll be staying here. *sigh* Lost my job, lost my master, don't know what will be of the future...

His brothers turned and looked at each other. They didn't say anything, but there was a kind of unspoken agreement there, something very important that they had decided. Crossing his arms across his plastron, Jack said, after a long sigh: - Awright, Art, ya win; we'll help you.

\- Help with what?

\- What do ya think, barnacle head? We're gonna train wit' you, that ninja thing ya blabbed 'bout the other day.

\- Huh? But why? There's no point now... - then it dawned on him where they were getting to. He ordered: - No.

\- Yeah.

\- This is not your problem; you don't have to get involved.

\- Wrong, Artie – it was Turk's time to speak –; if you've got a problem, then we all do. If Hamato Yoshi was really that important to you, then we can't let his death go by; besides, Saki committed a murder. We gotta make sure that he pays for that!

\- Bu-But you can't! It's too dangerous! Mikey – he turned to the albino, who had been watching it all in silence –, you don't even know what this is about, do you?

\- Ermm... I guess not really, but, if it is for making things better for you, Artie, then you can count me in!

\- … Jack? What about the Purple Dragons? How do you expect to train and...

\- No probs, bro. That's been taken care of: I quit.

Artie was speechless; at first he thought he didn't hear it right. Jack looked annoyed at his face, before coming up with a kind of explanation: - Whot's so surprising 'bout it, anyway? Got tired of all that crap for a while, now; so I just went and said 'Hey, fuck you lot', and that's it.

Turk poked him, remarking in a low voice: - Watch your tongue, Mike's listening.

Jack turned to Turk, snarling. His twin was trying to say something, but he just snapped: - Been taken care of. Period. - then, seemingly changing the subject: - Huh, I think I was wrong about that Yoshi guy; guess it was for real, then...

The turtle grunted; it was the closest thing to an apology that he had ever said to any of his brothers. Turk cut in: - There's no going back now, Artie; so, ya better train us and train us good, or else we'll go and face that Shredder guy anyway, rather you like it or not.

Artie sighed, defeated. - Fine; you win. - He wasn't really sure of what he was doing, but anyway he got up, picked up his _bokken_ and pushed the sofa over. He turned around, and stared at them. - Training starts now.

Artie had to start from scratch, teaching basic stuff, and, in the very beginning, they had problems with discipline; however, he got through those with Shen's help. After that was taken care of, things went smoothly, as they turned out to be fast learners.

Though Shen didn't like the idea of training the turtles for combat in that circumstance, she agreed with Artie that it was the best thing to keep them out of harm's way. She took it upon herself to ensure the safety of the entire clan – if you could call four teenage mutant ninja-wannabe turtles a "clan" -, herself and Miwa included. The day the Dragon's Foot burned down, she came back and retrieved some gear and some materials for them to use, including hidden stashes of throwing stars and bombs.

The adult ninja also helped the turtles with food and medical supplies, using the money she had saved up with Yoshi. She thought that, using it sparingly, they could get by. And, if it came it wasn't enough... well, she'd just steal it. Any risk was worth taking, to keep Miwa safe and healthy.

Back in their sparring session, they heard Mike entering the lair; he, too, was sporting the same utility belt of his brothers. He was the last one to come back from the "training course", that night.

Mike took that sudden turn of events surprisingly well; when his brothers explained to him how Artie met Yoshi and what happened after, he went with the flow, bearing with the at times harsh training of their "fearless leader". Meanwhile, his health got better, and he got to learn a lot of new things (between training sessions, of course). He could express himself better now, and behave almost as a normal teenager would, except that some of his animal instincts were still strong, such as his sense of smell, for instance.

\- Yo, people, whazzup?

\- Hey, Mi- Artie didn't finish his sentence, as they heard a metallic sound coming behind him. - What was that?

Everybody now turned to the lair's entrance.

\- Shit! Somebody's found the lair!

\- Turk, check out who's it!

\- I'm on it! - Turk rushed out to the spot where the outdated hardware used to be, and now stood the monitor of his security system. - Um, is some short funny-looking guy wearing a robe; can't get a look on his face. - He turned around on his chair and faced the others: - So?

\- Meh, jes let 'im rot out there; we keep quiet, and we're good.

They looked again at the screen; the strange figure was now poking around the pipework with a wooden stick. - No can do, guys; whoever he is, he's on to us-musta've followed Mike all the way here. Besides, there's no other way outta here.

\- Yet.

\- I think it means you'd better start diggin', Turk.

\- Shut up, Mike; this is your fault!

\- Shut up, everybody! - Artie slapped his own face, then turned to Shen. She merely nodded. - Okay, here's what we gonna do: Turk, gimme your _bo_. - The genius threw his weapon at him. - Now, you'll hide and give me cover; I'll open the door and swat the little dweeb good; then we interrogate him.

\- Wow, ya jes blew my mind; thet's failproof.

\- I assume you've got a better idea, then?

\- ... I'll get the door.

Jack moved to the lever that opened the door from the inside; Artie made the signal, and jumped for it, but stopped midway when he got sight of the little guy's face.

It had fur. And whiskers.

\- Greetings, fellow mutant.


	19. Chapter 19: How Legends Are Born

\- Huh...

\- May I come in? It's a little cold out here. - and, without waiting for an invitation, the stranger entered the lair, before the astounded four mutant turtles and one kunoichi. He removed his hood, revealing his snout to the light, and said matter-of-factly: - By the way, young Arthur, your hesitation could have cost you your life, in case I was really an enemy agent.

The rat-man turned, and, when he saw Tang Shen, he seemed to get paralyzed for a second, before hurrying to kneel before her. - Mistress, I have returned.

The kunoichi didn't have a clue what was going on. - Do I know you?

\- Yes; though not in the form you see me now. I am Splinter, your pet rat.

The atmosphere was silent as in a cemetery's.

\- What?! - Artie stepped over. - That's ridiculous! How do you expect...

\- Your names are Arthur, Jacob, Turk and Michael, or so you call yourselves; I know that because I've watched you, as a pet rat which once belonged to Hamato Yoshi and his wife Tang Shen, that is, until Yoshi's murder by a metal-plated ninja warrior who thrust his bladed gauntlet through Yoshi's stomach and ordered his minions to set his dojo afire. It's been a year, since that tragic day.

Artie fell to his knees, eyes wide open. - You can't be Splinter. I...

\- … It's been a while.

Artie put down the old lantern in the makeshift table. Since the turtles moved to their new lair, the old shafts they used to live in near the old subway were empty. Sometimes, when Artie wanted to be alone, he would come there with a book or a deck of cards, or to simply stay quiet, meditating.

Well, not really alone; in all those trips, he used to bring along Splinter inside his dragon-cage, and they would enjoy that little free time in the dark room before Artie would hurry back to his training.

This time, however, something unusual happened. Artie was reading a book, when he heard the sound of something scurrying outside.

That immediately put him on his toes. He grabbed his _bokken_, and, dimming the light of the lantern, he slithered into the shadows. Next to the entrance, he was focusing all his attention to any sound or shape he could spot in the tunnels.

Suddenly, he felt something heavy knock him over to the side, and shout: - Who the hell are you?!

Before him towered a tall, muscular man; the poor light didn't allow him to make his facial features, but Artie could see that he was wearing ragged clothes, and was heavily bandaged. More important, though, was the fact that the ground next to where he stood seemed to be thriving with little paws and teeth moving chaotically about.

The turtle wasn't feeling like waiting for introductions; he kicked the lights off, stumbled back to grab the dragon-cage, and, without much glamor, hit the mysterious man in the crotch with his sword. The man groaned and stepped back, giving him the opportunity to flee to the sewer tunnels.

Artie was scared shitless. Whoever that man was, the teen was almost positive that he was able to control the little creatures, and, though he wasn't afraid of rats in general, he thought the small horde of vermin that followed the man disturbing at the least. So, basically, he was running for sweet life.

Turning at a corner down a section of the sewers away from the lair, he tripped and dropped Splinter in the ground; with the impact, the wooden dragon-cage broke with a loud snap. Artie froze still; he didn't dare to make a movement, afraid his chaser was still hot on his trail.

Several bone-chilling minutes passed, and still Artie heard no one following him; so, he pulled himself together and made a move towards the broken cage, but then he saw that Splinter wasn't there: either he ran away or was throw into the sewage beside the platform the turtle was standing on. Down-crest, Artie started to pick up the pieces of his late master's property, but he noticed that the base of the wooden structure was hollow, and something was inside.

It was a bunch of scrolls, ancient in look, written entirely in Japanese kanji and kana. Artie was amazed by the discovery; so much that he forgot all about his encounter with the mysterious man a few moments earlier, and also forgot about Splinter, as he made his way back to the lair.

\- Splinter...

The turtles and woman were still in silence; finally, Artie asked what was in everybody's mind: - If you are Yoshi's pet rat, then tell us, what happened the day I lost you?

\- Hmm... - the old rat was still kneeling; he closed his eyes and stroke his whiskers, deep in concentration. - When you fell down and dropped my cage, Arthur-_kun_, I fell into the stream of water by the side of the platform, from where I was flushed down to another section. I don't know how far I went; I just remember that, in this portion of the sewers, there was a cannister containing a strange, glowing substance.

Turk interrupted him. - Did you just say, a cannister with a strange, glowing substance?

\- Yes; when I finally got off the water, I accidentally touched a small pool of the substance that had leaked from the container. It was a viscous material, which made me trip and further cover my whole body with it, causing me to... change.

Excited, Turk put both hands on his head. - I can't believe it! A lost cannister of mutagen, from back when we were tots! And the stuff still works, too!

\- Where you've been all these months?

The old rat sniffed. - I traveled to a far land; I was confused by all that happened, but, fortunately, it was an uneventful journey. After landing, my life has been one of secret and disguise, until recently, when I remembered about all of you-and my master.

Nobody knew what to say; it was a while before Shen said: - The day my husband died... you were there.

Splinter nodded gravely.

Tears were starting to form on the corners of Shen's eyes. - Tell me... tell me how it happened...

A pause; than Splinter says: - I think this conversation would best be had after a cup of hot tea, mistress...

The old rat told the turtles an impressive tale: he told them that he, through mimicry of Yoshi's training that he watched through the bars of his dragon-cage, was able to learn all of his techniques, and therefore was able to teach them, if they'd allow. Anyway, the small band was more than willing to welcome the newcomer, as he had a common past with them, and probably, a common destiny.

Artie, however, didn't look so crazy about Splinter's presence there. A month had passed by; the mutants and Shen were having breakfast together at the kitchen, as a skulking Arthur frowned at Splinter's newspaper from behind his bowl of cereal.

\- Turtles – the rat mutant suddenly called, as he flipped a page.

The mutants sprang to attention-even Artie, reluctantly: - _Hai_!

\- Lotus and I have been discussing about something regarding your ninja training...

The turtles turned to her. - I think there's one important point you're missing; you know, during a mission, it's not wise for ninjas to use their real names; you guys should consider taking fake ones.

Jack sneered. - *pfft* Yeah, right; like anybody shadowin' us will ask around for Jack, Art, Turk and Mike instead of the big talking turtles walkin' 'round NY...

Lotus didn't flinch. - Anyway, I think you should take that precaution. - The turtles didn't look terribly interested. - *sigh* Okay, think of that more like, uh, a war name, or...

\- … like a sort of mercenary codename, or something?

Tang Shen was about to say something, when a booming sound and a short quake threw everyone at the table on the ground-that is, everyone but the rat master.

\- What the hell was that!?

\- Is everybody OK?

\- Damn, I got oatmeal all over my plastron!

\- *sigh* We're all fine, thanks.

\- Dude, what happened?

\- Seems like something exploded nearby. - Artie exchanged a glance with Tang Shen: - I think we'd better investigate, Mistress.

But, for his surprise, Tang Shen replied: - I agree; but I think you should rather ask permission to Splinter-_san_.

\- May I make a suggestion? - everyone's attention turned to Splinter, who was still reading the paper, as if nothing had happened just then; for their surprise, he was smirking. Artie didn't look so impressed, but asked: - … Regarding what, _jonin_ Splinter?

\- Your ninja names, of course; you see, I've always been an appreciator of the fine arts...

\- Hey, guys!

Leonardo, Raphael and Donatello turned to their brother, Michelangelo, who ran back to his room, as they rushed to the source of the blast. Leonardo asked, as he caught up with them, hidden behind a niche close to a gutter: - What is it, Mike?

\- Umm... before we go any further, there's something I'd like to give ya. - he was holding both hands behind his shell; when he showed them, they held four plain red masks.

He tried to explain it: - Remember what master Splinter said 'bout never our identities and stuff? Well, I found these one day when I was rumma-I mean, searching through the garbage of the costume shop. Think they're meant for Mardi Gras, or sumthin'...

Raphael exchanged annoyed glances with the other two, before slapping his own face. - Mikey, ya think we gonna rob a bank? Who the hell'd take us seriously in those things? They don't even cover tha whole face, whot's the-*argh* – he put both hands on his head, and sighed.

\- Exactly! - Mike pointed dramatically to his brother. - If someone spots us, they'd think is just part of some dumb costume, and won't be having ideas; besides, if they are bad guys, the shock of the surprise oughta take 'em off guard, giving us the upper hand, man... Is called psychotic. - he poked his own forehead with a finger.

\- Psychology, Mikey.

\- Yeah, that's what I said.

\- … You know, guys, it might not be a bad idea, after all; it's so cheesy that it might actually work out, in the end... - Leonardo took one mask from Mike's hand and tried it out in front of the blade of one of Yoshi's swords. - Hmm... I guess it's O.K. _Though it really doesn't match the color of my eyes..._

\- Really? That's peachy; what next? Butterfly wings and _tutus_?

After some argument, all of them ended up putting on the masks; Raphael then spat: - We still doin' this thing, ladies?

Leonardo had already resumed walking; he turned and answered: - Yeah; c'mon.

Splinter, along with Lotus, became the turtle's instructor and mentor, and, under their guidance, their skills improved remarkably; he knew secrets of ninjutsu that even Lotus, a trained kunoichi, was unaware of. In the beginning, Artie frowned a bit at him, but the mutant rat managed to earn his trust bit by bit, and soon their bond was like that of father and son.

Three years would the turtles train under Splinter, before he'd feel that they were prepared to face the Shredder. Shen opposed him: she stated they were far from ready, but the old rat argued that they hadn't a choice: the Foot clan's clandestine activities had reached a dangerous level. It was a risky mission, he knew, but he was satisfied that their training would see them through – if his disciples would manage to keep their minds focused on the task throughout their ordeal.

At last, the day came: the day the turtles would go topside on their first official patrol. Splinter summoned them; beside him Lotus was standing, displaying her full kunoichi attire. The turtles didn't recognize her at first – it was the first time that they ever saw her like that –; Splinter explained that she'd come along with them.

\- I'll cover your backs, and I'm going to interfere only if the going gets tough. So, no trying to get on my better side: this is a test, you're on your own.

They went through the details again; after that, the ninja master gave them his advice: - Each and everyone of you – yes, even you, Michael – know what's there, in the outside; yes, you all have been there. But this night, you must remember, you go not as mutants disguised as humans – you go as ninja, as shadow warriors; your disguise is in the shadows. You must always remember this, my sons.

\- _Hai, sensei._

The mutant rodent bowed back, and watched silently as his students left to the sewers.

After they had walked for a while, Michelangelo, who was at the end of the line, asked out aloud: - Hey, what should we call ourselves?

Donatello knew better; anyway, he turned around and asked: - What do you mean?

\- You know – he raised his arms for emphasis –, we're like a team; we got our own codenames, our weapons, our gear... so the only thing missing is our team's name!

Raphael exchanged glances with Leonardo, and whispered: - As long as it isn't anything corny like 'the Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles', I'm good...

They went through the rest of the sewers without running into any problems, till they reached the manhole they'd use to get on street level. Donatello lifted it, and, after looking around carefully, whispered to his brothers below: - Coast is clear; c'mon.

It wasn't long after they all were outside the sewers when they heard a low whistle coming from the shadows. Raphael turned an angry mug to Donatello: - 'Coast is clear', eh? - Donatello shrugged, an apologetic smile on his face.

Now a small agglomeration of people was gathering just outside the alley they were in, as more gangsters seemed to pop from around the corner. They could see their colors now. Purple Dragons.

\- Oh, great... so what now, fearless leader?

\- Well, you could always talk with them; being buddies and all... - and, after saying that, Leonardo unsheathed his _ninjato_.

\- Go suck a rotten lemon. - Raphael took his _sai_ off his belt.

\- Knock it off, you two. - Donatello readied his _bo_ staff.

\- Either that, or get a room – Michelangelo unstrapped his _nunchaku_. - Geez...

\- I'll get ya a coffin, if ya don't shaddup, wise-ass...

\- Focus, guys, focus... just strike hard, and fade into the night...


End file.
